


The Lion's Fall

by Priestess_of_Groove



Series: The Dragon's Roar Universe [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied Braime, Implied Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Inception AU, Pre-Canon, Redemption Jaime Lannister, Suicide Attempt, Time Travel Fix-It, an AU of my AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-07-11 15:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestess_of_Groove/pseuds/Priestess_of_Groove
Summary: Tangentially connected to my fanficThe Dragon's Roar, this is a branch in the path that fic doesn't go down.  What if Ser Barristan had been there when Jaime tried to hang himself?“I went to the godswood. No one ever goes there.  There would’ve been no one to interrupt me. I was carrying a noose and I headed straight for the weirwood tree. It’s not a true weirwood, like this one, but it would serve its purpose.  I climbed it and tied the rope around the thickest branch I could find and then I hung it around my neck. I just sat there for a moment, enjoying the quiet. Then I shoved off the branch.”- Jaime Lannister, Chapter 3, The Dragon's RoarUpdated 4/7/2019- Added a few paragraphs to the end of Chapter 4 and edited the entire text for clarity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** Welcome readers, new and old alike, to my latest fanfic! You do not need to be familiar with _The Dragon's Roar_ to be able to enjoy this one.
> 
> TDR readers, fear not. This is a novella. It’s very close to being done and it in no way retreads what I’ve written there, but it implies a different branch in the storyline.
> 
> Why did I decide to write this? Because intrusive plot bunnies are intrusive.
> 
> I will be posting this once a week, every Wednesday. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Summary: Tangentially connected to The Dragon’s Roar.  For those unfamiliar with that story, Jaime Lannister and Jon Snow are sent back in time by the gods to make things right.  Jaime is sent back to the day Cersei marries Robert Baratheon. He tries to commit suicide a few years before TDR begins. No one sees and he is saved by the gods.  In this story, when Jaime commits suicide, he’s not alone. Ser Barristan sees him. How would this change the circumstances?
> 
> TDR readers, fear not.  This is a novella. It’s very close to being done and it in no way retreads what I’ve written there, but it implies a different branch in the storyline.
> 
> Why did I decide to write this?  Because intrusive plot bunnies are intrusive.

 

**Update 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

**Chapter 1**

 

Behind the closed door of the Lord Commander’s room, Ser Barristan sighed in frustration as he labored over the piece of parchment.  ‘ _ Who would have thought commanding the greatest knights in the realm would be like having to corral a bunch of finicky children?’   _ He thought sourly.  Ser Meryn Trant had begged off his shift for the evening due to illness, which Ser Barristan suspected was actually a hangover.  A  _ real _ knight would power through something so small, but he had no evidence to indicate otherwise, and he’d rather not assign a sick knight to guard the king.  A Kingsguard had to be on his toes at all times when guarding and ill people tended to have the focus of a sleeping hound.

 

Ser Arys Oakheart was currently guarding the King.  He was reliable if strangely timid. He tried to avoid doubling shifts though.  Ser Mandon Moore had spent the entirety of the night before guarding the Queen. He was a possibility for subbing, but he too had a reputation along with Boros Blount of begging off shifts.  Ser Boros was currently guarding the queen, so he was out. Ser Preston Greenfield was away, visiting family and wasn’t due back for another week. The children, Myrcella and Julianna, were being guarded by the Queen’s personal guard.  Not for the first time he was grateful that Sandor Clegane was the sworn shield of Prince Joffrey, so that he didn’t have to worry about scheduling a guard for him.

 

He settled his quill tip on Jaime Lannister’s name and paused.

 

It was Jaime’s day off.  As much as he didn’t like Ser Jaime, he was by far the most reliable member of the Kingsguard he had.  Ever since he asked for three months to tour the Westerlands with his brother, he had never asked for another day off.  That had been four years ago. If Barristan didn’t know better, he’d say that Boros and Mandon had a tendency to walk all over Jaime, pressing him into taking their shifts.  Jaime was never a pushover, as was obvious in the training yard, when he sent them sprawling like they were no better than boys, however he always obliged and took their shifts.   Never complaining, never protesting, just quiet and immovable not unlike a stone golem.

 

In fact, something had been bothering Barristan about Ser Jaime for some time.  He was  _ too _ quiet.   _ Too _ docile for an aggressive master swordsman.  Too compliant. Those were the last words Barristan would have said about Jaime of old.  Even back during the reign of King Aerys when things were going downhill, he had attempted fake cheer, papered over with sarcasm.  No one was happy then, least of all a green boy who was being used as a tool by King Aerys.

 

They had all suffered then, Jaime moreso than the rest of the Kingsguard having to be so close to Aerys at all times.  Regardless, Ser Barristan  _ still _ hadn’t forgiven Jaime for murdering their king.  He knew it had been a mistake to leave a green boy like him  _ alone _ to look after the king by himself.  However, he was ordered to follow his prince, so follow he did, never raising an objection.  He now wished he had, on more than one occasion. Perhaps things wouldn’t have gone so sour if he had been brave enough to talk to his prince about his thoughts and concerns.

 

_ ‘What’s done is done,’ _ Barristan thought.  He had prided himself on keeping his thoughts about his brothers in the Kingsguard to himself, but when he had learned what Jaime had done, he’d marched over wounded and all to lecture him.

 

Ser Jaime had affected smug arrogance and had taken the lecture from Ser Barristan without even so much as a contrite expression.

 

If it was at all possible, his callousness infuriated Barristan even more and just as he was leaving, he sneered, “I knew you were too young for the Kingsguard.”

 

Jaime’s smile faltered for the first time at that.  It was only then he saw the disarming smile for what it was: a facade.   But Barristan had been too enraged back then to care and stormed away from the young Kingsguard.  It had been over ten years and they still barely said more than a handful of words to one another.  Barristan attempted to cover up his own dislike of Ser Jaime by simply ignoring him in all situations that didn’t require interaction.  Ser Jaime let him.

 

However, as he was forced to live in close proximity with his brothers in arms, he couldn’t help but notice that Jaime had no friends or acquaintances.  He knew King’s Landing was a difficult place to live and he wasn’t oblivious to the backstabbing that was rife throughout the Keep, but even he had a few lords he could rub elbows with and, when he had time off, play dice.  The last time Barristan saw Jaime truly smile was when his brother Tyrion had visited and that was a few years ago.

 

Furthermore, Ser Jaime only ever seemed to be known by the name of Kingslayer.  The king in particular was fond of calling him that and Barristan had noticed a slight tightening in Jaime’s eyes when he said it, but otherwise he said nothing nor did anything.

 

Another oddity about Jaime was his peculiar fondness for wearing the Kingsguard helmet.  It was required to be worn out on the battlefield, but in the Keep at a time of relative peace, Ser Barristan had made it optional.  None of the other brothers wore it, only Jaime. In fact, Barristan remembered with some amusement that he’d scared the wits out of a prostitute exiting the king’s room because she’d thought he was just a propped up suit of armor.   She screamed when the suit of armor had suddenly looked her way.

 

Any attempts to talk with him were rebuffed.  Barristan had quickly learned to not ask beyond a yes-no question and even then he frequently received a nod or a shake of his head in reply.  He’s not even sure Jaime had ever spoken a word to Ser Preston Greenfield and he had been added to the roster ten years ago.

 

If Jaime didn’t want to talk, he couldn’t make him.  The other Kingsguard soon drove Jaime from Barristan’s mind, complaining about scheduling and challenging him for fights in the training ring.  He only ever made a cursory check on Jaime when he was present.

 

The only time he seemed to come alive was when he was in a sword fight.  Whether he was on the battlefield, in the training yard, or in a tourney, he still delighted winning against all comers and gloating about it.  Even his words were sharp enough to cut and no one was spared his tongue and that included Barristan. He fought anyone who was brave enough to ask for a bout and threw them in the dirt.  Then, as if to make matches more interesting, he started training with his left hand. This delighted many as they could finally hold against him. But just as he had a preternatural talent with his right hand, it did not take him long to start winning using his left.

 

It seemed no matter how hard Barristan fought against Jaime, he could never quite win and the Kingslayer never let him forget that.

 

_ ‘Well, I better ask if he can cover Ser Meryn Trant’s shift tonight.’   _ He headed to Jaime’s room and quickly rapped his fist on it.  When he heard nothing, he said, “Ser Jaime, it’s Ser Barristan.  May I enter?” When he still couldn’t hear anything, he tried the knob to find it unlocked and surprisingly empty.  Even in this beautiful weather, Jaime had a tendency to spend his off days tucked away in his room. But nothing was out of place.  He was just closing the door when he paused. Jaime’s sword was leaning against the simple writing desk in the room.

 

_ ‘Jaime never goes anywhere without his sword,’ _ Barristan thought.  That sword was as much apart of Jaime as his hand was.  He never went anywhere without it strapped to his side and as Kingsguard he was allowed to wear his sword at all times.

 

He closed the door and hurried downstairs.  Only Mandon was seated at the table eating a late breakfast.

 

“Ser Mandon, have you seen Jaime?”

 

“Yeah, the cu - “ He glanced up to see Barristan glaring at him and said, “He just passed by a few minutes ago.  Had a rope in his hands.”

 

“A rope?”  Barristan felt his heart jolt and then settle.  An eerie feeling was stealing over him, even as he tried to quash it.  “Did he say where he was going?”

 

“Has he ever said anything to anyone?”  Mandon replied in a curt voice, clearly irritable from his lack of sleep.

 

“Thank you,” Barristan said hastily and hurried out the door.  He glanced around and found Jaime to be nowhere in sight. He just started heading over to the training grounds, when he saw a servant out sweeping the stone steps.  

 

“Have you seen Ser Jaime Lannister?”  The servant was little more than a boy and he squeaked at being addressed by the Lord Commander.  He went as stiff as a board and as white as milk. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him and he merely pointed to a hallway.

 

“Thank you,” Barristan replied and strode through the door, frowning.  ‘ _ What is Jaime up to?  Where could he be going?’   _ There were few places in the Keep that offered solitude, let alone privacy.  He was pretty certain, the Lord Varys himself would say there’s no such thing as privacy in these walls.  He had a feeling that was why Jaime had a tendency to stay in his room whenever he wasn’t guarding or training.

 

A thrill of fear shivered through his body and he glanced around, wondering where it had come from.   _ Hurry!   _ The thought appeared in his head as if planted there and his stride quickened and before he realized it, he was at the godswood.  He blinked in befuddlement, but at the same time thought, ‘ _ Of course.  No one comes to the godswood.  There are no worshippers of the Old Gods here.’ _

 

He stepped into the forest and began winding his way through the trees and bushes.  When he caught sight of the weirwood tree, he came to a halt. Jaime had climbed the tree and was now perched on the thickest branch.  

 

_ ‘What is he doing?’ _

 

He was wearing simple pair of breeches and a woolen shirt.  His face seemed even more blank than usual, not that he saw his face often since it was usually covered by the helmet.  He surveyed the area and then quite suddenly locked eyes with Barristan. His face darkened for a moment as they regarded each other.  Then he shoved off the branch.

 

“No!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes** \- Wow! I'm blown away by the response and interest this little project generated. Thank you all for your comments and kudos! I hope I don't disappoint.

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

**Chapter 2**

 

Barristan only just saw the noose tied around Jaime’s neck the instant he shoved off the branch.  He ran through the trees. His feet felt like bricks weighing him down and it seemed to take a lifetime to reach the bottom of the heart tree.

 

Jaime was kicking and choking in the air, spittle flew from his mouth, and the trapped blood turned his skin red as if sunburned.   But his hands were steadfastly planted at his side, not even attempting to claw away the rope holding him.  _ If I can get high enough, I can cut down the rope, _ he thought and started climbing, mentally berating himself for wearing his full armor.  He was barely more than halfway up when he heard a crack like thunder and an orange light caused him to turn.  His eyes widened as a fire flared up and ate through the rope. In the next instant, Jaime fell lifeless to the ground.  

 

Barristan jumped to the ground scrambled over to him, frantically pushing him over.  

 

“Jaime!  Jaime, be alive!”

 

He threw the noose from him and almost instantly he began coughing and sucking in air.  Jaime cracked his eyes open. “Gods, no,” he rasped, closed his eyes again and fell unconscious.

 

“What did you think you were doing?!”  Barristan shouted at him, knowing perfectly well that his words fell on deaf ears.  He kept his hand on Jaime’s chest, taking comfort in the way it rose and fell. “I’ll go get help.”

 

But he hesitated.  He didn’t like the thought of leaving Jaime alone, not that there was anything in these woods that would kill him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the noose again and reached for it. He hadn’t undone the loop, merely loosened it to get over Jaime’s head, and he examined the end of it.  The rope was charred from where it had burned through.

 

_ How? _  Barristan knew what he saw.  The rope had spontaneously come alight with flame and burned only long enough and fast enough to free Jaime before fizzling out.  He glanced over at the weirwood tree.  _ Did the Old Gods spare you?  But to what end? _  He had long thought that Jaime would suffer in the deepest of the seven levels of hell for his crimes against the crown when he murdered King Aerys II.  But it seemed that they had made a rather overt attempt at saving him. He shivered.

 

“Don’t do anything foolish.  I’ll be back shortly,” Barristan replied, knowing full well Jaime would not have heard the instructions.  He said it more to comfort himself than anything else.

 

He rushed back to the White Tower and was breathing heavily when it came into sight.  He shoved through the door and looked around. Ser Mandon Moore was nowhere to be seen, likely gone to bed.

 

Barristan began stripping himself of his armor and dumping it noisily onto the shared table.  He was not about to run upstairs and back to the godswood wearing that again. He took the stairs two at a time and before long was banging on Mandon’s door.   He could hear a human voice speaking inaudible curses and the sound of his feet crossing the ground. 

 

“Yes, Lord Commander?”  Mandon said, cracking the door open.  He was only ever formal when he was furious.

 

“Come with me.  It’s urgent.”

 

He glared at Barristan.  “Why?”

 

“Just come.  That’s an order,” Barristan growled.  “Put shoes on. You’ll need them.” He started back down the stairs and stacked his armor neatly on the table while he waited.

 

When Mandon finally entered the kitchen, his face was that of a disgruntled bear, and his footsteps were as heavy as one.  His face softened though as he saw Barristan’s armor piled up in the kitchen.

 

“What?”

 

“Follow me.”

 

Ser Barristan didn’t bother hiding pretenses.  The moment he stepped out the door, he began running over to the godswood.  Servants and nobility alike stared as he pelted through the hallways. Only after they entered the godswood, away from prying eyes, Mandon shouted, “What’s happened?  Why are we doing this?”

 

Barristan didn’t even bother answering him.  The next moment they found themselves breathing heavily over Jaime Lannister.  The blood had the time to drain from his face and now his skin appeared pale and sickly.  A deep blue bruise was already forming around his neck.

 

“Ser Jaime?”

 

“Tried to kill himself,” Ser Barristan said.

 

“He what?!  What the hell does he have to kill himself over?”

 

“I don’t know,” Barristan replied and there was a growl in his voice.  “I only just arrived in time to stop it. Help me bring him back to his room.  I’ve got his torso.”

 

Ser Mandon led the way backing up from the godswood.  If they drew attention before, there was practically a corridor of servants, lords and ladies awaiting them.  Out of the corner of his eye, Barristan saw a pair of maids’ eyes grow wide and they abandoned their chores to race deeper into the Keep, no doubt to inform the queen about the state of her brother.

 

“What happened to him?  Is he alright?” Questions flew at him with the swiftness of starlings.

 

He ignored them all and continued to the White Tower.  When they reached it, they switched positions so that Barristan was going up backwards.  He had to let one hand go briefly to get the door, but they managed to finally lie him on his bed without dropping him.

 

“Ser Mandon, wake Ser Meryn and tell him to see me.  Then go retrieve the Maester. Make sure he’s on his way.”

 

“Yes, Lord Commander,” Mandon said with a quick nod and departed.  Ser Jaime had the second highest room in the Tower due to seniority, so all other other knights had rooms beneath his.  Barristan took the wooden chair at the desk and sat next to Jaime’s bed and stared at him in helpless confusion. The last time he was in a similar position with Jaime, it had been just after King Robert had married Queen Cersei.  Jaime had started having violent nightmares and would scream loud enough to wake the whole Tower. Barristan had been puzzled and asked for an explanation, but Jaime refused to provide one. Once when he was going to speak to the king he had passed Jaime standing guard and had noticed his eyes seemed farway.  He stopped to get a closer look and could swear he saw primal fear. He’d called Jaime’s name then and his eyes immediately turned to his.

 

“Yes, Lord Commander?”  He had asked in a banal voice.

 

“I was ensuring you were alert.”

 

“I know my duty,” he snapped.

 

The nightmares had eventually faded away, but Barristan wasn’t entirely convinced they were gone.  However, with the addition of more Kingsguard who were more fervent about their demands, Jaime’s troubles had faded to the background of his mind.

 

_ This is my damn fault, _ Barristan thought, shaking his head unhappily.   _ Some Lord Commander I am. _

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

“Come in,” Barristan barked.  

 

Ser Meryn Trant stepped in groggily, looking pale. “You asked for me, Ser?”

 

“Yes, you will be guarding the king tonight as was originally scheduled,” Barristan replied.  Ser Meryn’s eyes grew comically wide and his mouth gaped like a fish. “You are dismissed.”

 

Ser Meryn scowled but nodded and left.  Barristan only turned again when he heard a muffled ‘Your Grace’ out in the corridor.  In the next instance, the queen barged in, her golden hair fanned out behind her as she strode over to him.  Her expression was just as fierce and aggressive as her walk. She was alone, so perhaps Ser Boros had the presence of mind to stay outside.

 

Ser Barristan stood and bowed.  “Your Grace,” he said to her.

 

“What  has happened to my brother?!”  She demanded.

 

He glanced at Jaime.  He knew that he probably would prefer this remain private, but he had forced his hand when he caught him trying to kill himself.

 

“Need I remind you it is illegal to lie to your queen?”  Cersei said, her voice like a blacksmith’s hammer striking an anvil.

 

“Threats won’t be necessary, Your Grace.  There’s really no easy way for me to put this, but...your brother tried to hang himself.”

 

She actually stepped back, blinking in shock as if Ser Barristan’s very words had struck her.   Finally, she gathered her composure again and said, “You lie!”

 

“I do not, Your Grace.  I watched him do it.”

 

“Why didn’t you stop him?!”

 

“I hadn’t realized at the time what he was doing, Your Grace.  You have my sincerest apologies.”

 

“That’s not good enough!  I will strip you of your title and you will be exiled from the city.  My brother always deserved to be Lord Commander over you,” She snapped.

 

_ Hardly _ , Barristan thought, but he didn’t say anything.  Only the king could strip him of his rank and even despite his failures, he rather doubted the king would do that.  He was a highly celebrated knight of the realm and there would likely be backlash, especially if Ser Jaime the Kingslayer were promoted in his place.

 

_ That would mean even more of the most powerful positions in King’s Landing would be controlled by the Lannisters, _ he thought and what felt like ice ran into his veins and chilled him to the marrow.  He would never openly disrespect the queen, but he did not like her and was suspicious of the moves the Lannister family made.   Jaime at least seemed to respect his place as a Kingsguard and had never once been asked to be removed.

 

Cersei swept around him and took the seat he initially had at her brother’s side and grabbed Jaime’s hand in both of her own.

 

“Jaime,” she whispered, “why would you do such a thing?  We are to never be apart. How could you?”

 

Barristan frowned and started to back away.  He didn’t want to intrude on a private moment between the queen and her brother, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving Jaime alone with her.  While a good portion of his quiet disposition snuck by Barristan, it had been easy to see that Jaime loathed his sister. There had been talk all through the kingdom about how close the Lannister twins were with one another - suspicious gossip even - but they must’ve had a falling out somewhere along the way, because Jaime could barely manage to disguise his hate.  The only schedule adjustment he had asked for was to be assigned to his sister less frequently. Not even Robert’s tauntings could outweigh whatever his sister said or did to him. He opted to wait just inside the door

 

The queen seemed to have banished him from her mind as she lovingly stroked his fingers and whispered what he could only presume were soothing words.

 

After a while, Ser Barristan heard the clanking of a chain and opened the door just as Maester Pycelle reached the landing.  “Lord Commander, Your Grace, I came as swiftly as I could,” he wheezed, shuffling over to the bed.

 

“Maester Pycelle, make sure he is in perfect health.  Ser Barristan  _ claims _ he tried to hang himself,” the queen said, looking at Barristan with cold eyes.  “I know he would never do such a thing.”

 

_ It seems you don’t know your brother very well at all, Your Grace.  For that matter, I don’t know him either, _ Barristan thought, though he tried to remain impassive.

 

The queen stood behind Pycelle, wringing her hands, and Ser Barristan remained by the door.  The maester fussed and mumbled under his breath as he examined the developing bruises around Jaime’s neck.  He checked his eyes and pulled up his shirt to examine the rest of him. At some point, Pycelle glanced furtively at him by the door.   Then he stood up and announced, “It is my determination that someone appears to have attempted to strangle Ser Jaime.”

 

“Maester, I was there.  Ser Jaime tried to hang himself.  It was I who cut him down and saved his life,” Ser Barristan retorted, shocking himself with the way the lie easily rolled from his tongue.  But certainly no one would believe that the rope had spontaneously burst into flame.

 

Pycelle shifted in embarrassment, glancing between him and the queen. Cersei continued to glare at him with suspicion.  She opened her mouth to speak when they heard heavy footsteps outside and then King Robert barged in.

 

“I was informed the Kingslayer had been injured.  What happened?” Robert demanded, but it was in a bored tone.

 

“Robert, my love, Ser Barristan failed in his duty as Lord Commander to oversee the Kingsguard.  My brother, my twin is near dead due to his failure.”

 

The king looked at her for a moment and then barked a laugh.  “Hah! And how did he fail the infamous Kingslayer? Unless I’m mistaken, your twin is a man grown and the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

The queen’s anger was growing cold and she clenched her fists, but she seemed unable to speak.

 

Barristan spoke up, “Your grace, Ser Jaime tried to hang himself.  I found him in time and saved him.”

 

Robert’s face darkened.   “The Kingslayer tried to hang himself?   Any idea why?”

 

“He has been unconscious since I removed the rope.”

 

“Where did he try to hang himself?”  Cersei asked, returning her fury to him.

 

“In the godswood.”

 

“What tree?”

 

Ser Barristan hesitated.  “On the heart tree, my lady.”

 

Cersei turned to Robert, “I would ask you have the heart tree uprooted!”

 

“He could just as easily use another tree, woman.  What would you have me do, raze the entire godswood?  No, I won’t do that.”

 

“My brother has been injured!”

 

“And?  He did it to himself.  If you want to do something about it, then figure out why he did it.  It’s pretty damn clear though that this is nothing I need to concern myself with.”  Robert turned to walk away.

 

“Then I want you to remove Ser Barristan from his post as Lord Commander!”  Cersei yelled as a last effort.

 

Robert laughed again.  “For what reason, Cersei?  He saved your brother’s life!  You should be thanking him!” 

 

“Jaime would never commit suicide!  We are twins, bound together for life!  He must’ve injured him!”

 

Robert’s expression darkened further.  “Ser Barristan is the most celebrated knight of the realm.  I would sooner believe his word over your forked tongue,  _ wife _ .”  With that he exited the door.

 

“Your Grace,” Ser Barristan said quietly as he exited.  Through the entire exchange he had stood there by the door with his head down, feeling more like a child stuck in the middle of his parents’ argument. 

 

Cersei fumed and turned away, marching back to Jaime who continued to remain unconscious.  Pycelle was standing awkwardly by the chair he’d been sitting in to examine Jaime.

 

“Will he recover?”  She asked.

 

“Yes, Your Grace.  He will survive. His voice may be permanently damaged, but I have a potion in my stores that should ease the pain in his throat when he wakes.  He should also eat only soup until his throat heals.”

 

“Fine, bring it to me and I will ensure he takes it,” Cersei said, once more taking the seat and Jaime’s hand.

 

The Maester shuffled past him out the door.  As soon as he was gone, Cersei said, “What are you still doing here, Lord Commander?”

 

“Ser Jaime is my charge, Your Grace.  It is my responsibility to ensure he gets the treatment he needs.”

 

“He is  _ my _ brother.  I will treat him.  Now leave.”

 

“Your Grace,” Ser Barristan said for the last time and reluctantly left.  He didn’t even acknowledge Ser Boros Blount as he went downstairs. He would need a strong cup of tea as he puzzled over this.  After he sent away a servant, he sat at the table and prayed.  _ Please give Jaime the strength and fortitude to overcome this.  Please give me the wisdom to help Jaime. I promise I will not fail him this time. _

 

Once he had his tea, he went back upstairs to tackle the schedule.  He was going to make sure Jaime had the time he needed to recover and he was determined to find the cause.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes** : Thank you, everybody, for reading and commenting and giving your kudos! I hope I don't disappoint.

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

**Chapter 3**

 

_ Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, _

 

_ I am writing to inform you that your son, Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, tried to hang himself earlier today.  I was able to intervene in time. Maester Pycelle says that his voice may suffer permanent damage, but he is otherwise healthy and whole. _

 

_ All time and consideration will be given to him for proper healing before he returns to his duties. _

 

_ Lord Commander Barristan Selmy _

 

Ser Barristan leaned back and sighed, glancing out the window to see waning sunlight.  He probably should’ve written that letter first, but he had been dreading it all day. Lord Tywin would be in a fury once he received it and he wouldn’t be surprised at all if it was enough to rouse the lord to ride to King’s Landing and demand his son be released from his duties.  He’d been angling to get his heir back for years. He’d give it to Pycelle himself in the morning.

 

He hadn’t seen Ser Jaime since he left the queen by his bedside.  Not even the queen could stay in the White Tower past nightfall, so he had to make sure she was gone.  Ser Boros Blount was still standing at the door and he nodded at Ser Barristan. He entered the room and stopped in his tracks.

 

Queen Cersei had her brother by the scalp with his head pulled back in a most painful way.  His hands were clenching the bed with a death grip and he was trying to pull his head away and his feet dug into the bed as he struggled to get out of her reach without touching her.

 

“You are mine!  Do you understand that?  We are meant to be together.  Two halves of one whole, but you push and push.  Be careful that I don’t take more drastic measures to return you to me.”  With that she attacked his lips in what he supposed was meant to be a kiss, but Jaime finally pushed her away, sliding himself as far back into the corner of his bed as he could.

 

She leapt to her feet.  “Why you-!”

 

“Your Grace, it is sunset.  I suggest you return to your quarters,” Ser Barristan spoke up.  His voice was measured, but he was tense with anger and his jaw was clenched.

 

She stared at him in shock and she seemed to shiver with terror under his gaze.  She quickly made her exit and Ser Boros Blount followed her. The knight had not seen the proceedings as he had been faithfully turned away from the door.

 

It was probably for the best.  Even after Cersei had left, Jaime continued to remain huddled in the corner of his bed, though he had a feeling it was less out of fear and more out of a desire to hide.  He trembled no more, but his gaze was deliberately turned toward the wall and his mouth was drawn into a stubborn line.

 

Ser Barristan shut the door and took the once again empty chair by the bed.  “How are you feeling?” He asked softly.

 

“Fine,” Jaime rasped and winced at the pain in his throat, still refusing to look at him.

 

“Don’t lie to me,” Barristan growled, causing Jaime to actually turn to him.  “You tried to kill yourself! I was there, if you haven’t forgotten.”

 

Jaime sneered at him.  “Don’t act like you care now,” he whispered and once again winced at the pain.  “Why’d you even bother saving me?”

 

“I didn’t.”  Jaime gave him a piercing look.  “I didn’t reach you in time. I was climbing the tree, getting closer to cut you down, when the rope caught fire and burned through.  It was unlike anything I’d ever seen. You were saved by the Gods,” Ser Barristan said. His voice had started out in a low rumble and ended in a whisper.  While Jaime’s expression appeared not to change, he saw a light of recognition in his eyes. “You know why.”

 

“No, I don’t.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  You’re mad,” Jaime snarled at him, but the words stumbled out of his mouth as though said in a panic.

 

A lump had formed in Ser Barristan’s throat and for the first time in his long life he felt true fear.  He’d always felt so calm and self-assured, even in battle. But now he had a kingsguard who tried to kill himself and the Gods had deliberately and plainly intervened to prevent that.  He wasn’t sure which made him more apprehensive: that the gods revealed their existence in this way or that it was Jaime Lannister they had saved.

 

“Don’t hide from this, Jaime.  What do the Gods want with you?  Is it the Seven? Is it the Old Gods?”

 

Jaime only continued to sneer at him and remained silent, his eyes full of anger and distrust.

 

Barristan sighed.  “Look, I know we haven’t seen eye to eye since...since King Aerys died.  I admit, I disliked you and distrusted you to some degree ever since. You have upheld your oath since then however.  You are a part of the Kingsguard and as such it is my duty and responsibility to help you.”

 

He chuckled in his raspy voice which quickly turned into a cough and he gave Ser Barristan a bitter smile.  “It’s your _ responsibility _ .  It’s your  _ duty _ .  You don’t care!  I’m not explaining anything to you or to anyone.  You can go now. I promise I won’t try to kill myself anymore.” With that, Jaime flattened out on his bed and put his back to him.

 

Barristan winced.   _ I could have explained that better; It makes him sound like a burden, _ he thought and rubbed the back of his neck.  He really did want to help Jaime. Suicide was not something to be taken lightly.  Clearly something had gone wrong and he needed to get to the bottom of it. It was important the Kingsguard not only look strong, but be strong, and a failing member would weaken the kingdom’s faith in the institution.

 

But he also had to approach Jaime on a more personal level.  He had not taken the dissociation of being treated like a knight as opposed to a person well.

 

He began glancing around the room as though he could find the solution, but his eyes found the potion Maester Pycelle had left to treat Jaime’s throat.   He picked it up and said, “The Maester left you this mixture to ease your throat. I imagine he’ll bring you your doses every day. The Maester also said you are to eat only soup until your throat heals.  Please rest, Jaime.” He started towards the door and glanced over one last time. Jaime continued to face the wall. “You will not be allowed to resume your duties until you tell me what ails you.”

 

Barristan didn’t wait for a response and simply headed upstairs.  He needed to put in a good night’s rest so that he could guard the king the following day.   _ Hopefully my ultimatum didn’t incense him.   _ Jaime was as stubborn as the best of them.  It was going to be a long wait.

 

The next morning, Ser Barristan had taken his letter to Maester Pycelle at the very edge of dawn.  The Maester was short-tempered for having been woken so early in the day, but he only grumbled under his breath about it.  The Maester had encouraged him to leave, but Ser Barristan refused until he saw the raven fly himself.

 

Now Ser Barristan stood inside the King’s chamber, sweating in his armor, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat.  He was about to lie to his king. Granted, it was a lie of omission, but he had never, consciously made a decision to defy his king.  

 

For all that he felt he was above the scheming in the Red Keep, he’d now have to engage in it.  If he told Robert that Cersei had forcefully kissed her brother, Jaime’s life would be forfeit. The king’s anger was like a flood and anyone caught in the area would drown in it.  He would never believe that Cersei could get away with kissing a knight that didn’t want to be kissed. If the whole point of this was to find a way to heal Jaime, he would first have to safeguard his life in more ways than one.

 

He could give up Jaime.  Were he fresh from the hurt of losing Prince Rhaegar and discovering Jaime had slain the king, he would have.  It was of his opinion that Jaime had forever tainted the honor of the Kingsguard with the blood of the king on his hands.  He still couldn’t believe King Robert had allowed him to retain his position. And yet, despite all the chances he had to kill King Robert - especially since he was insulting the queen with every whore and serving girl he slept with - Jaime had yet to even raise his voice at him.  He had been steadfast and faithful all this time.

 

_ Or would the Gods intervene once more?   _ He would not deny, it was tempting to reveal the truth and see how the Gods would react, but a strong compulsion told him that was not a good idea.  

 

Something must have caused Jaime to snap though, yet his first action was to take violence against himself, not anyone else.   _ Why? _  Barristan thought.  It was that question circling through his head that was the reason why he was betraying his king.

 

“Is something on your mind, Selmy?”  The King spoke up, bringing Barristan back to the present.  Robert barked a laugh and said, “I caught you daydreamin’! You are human after all.”

 

“I don’t daydream, your grace,” Ser Barristan replied automatically.

 

Robert gave him a disbelieving look.  For once, the king was doing his own work.  They were merely papers that needed the king’s seal of approval.   The Lord Hand Jon Arryn had already done the difficult task of actually reading them to know what Robert was signing and had approved them.  It was the only task that Lord Arryn refused to allow Robert to duck out on.

 

“Your grace, I must bring to your attention an issue that has arisen regarding Ser Jaime Lannister.”

 

Robert sighed.  “He’s already tried to hang himself this week.  What has he done now?”

 

“Actually, your grace, it’s not about what he’s done, but what was done to him,” Ser Barristan replied.  He had to choose his next words very carefully. “I entered the room yesterday evening as the sun was setting to find the queen abusing her brother.”

 

The king’s head came up and he narrowed his eyes.  “Abusing him? This is the Kingslayer we’re talking about.  He’d never let anyone lay a finger on them and live.”

 

“And this is the queen.  His sister. For all that Ser Jaime has irrevocably stained his honor, there has never been a rumor of him raising his hand to a lady.  Putting aside she is his sister, he would be put to death for any aggressive moves towards the queen,” Ser Barristan replied in a voice with a sharp edge. 

 

“What did you see her do to him?”  

 

“She grabbed him by his hair and slapped him when he resisted.”  He thought his voice wavered slightly with the lie. Could Robert see the sweat streaming off him? 

 

Robert’s face grew thunderous.  “Cersei does have a reputation for abusing the servants.”

 

“There’s no reason to believe she wouldn’t abuse the Kingsguard who are under her power as well,” Ser Barristan said.

 

He thought perhaps that was enough to get Robert, to agree, but the fat king shook his great bearded head.  “She’s still very partial to her own family. Why would she hurt her brother?”

 

“Why would Ser Jaime feel the need to kill himself?”

 

Robert grew remarkably quiet.  “Did he say she was the cause?”

 

“He refuses to speak on the matter.  He will not resume his duties until I believe he is ready to return to them.”  Robert still seemed unable to make a decision, so Barristan pushed harder. “If you’ll recall, Queen Cersei accused me of having strangled her brother.  She is, at the minimum, abusing her authority over the Kingsguard.”

 

Robert’s face grew red and his voice was a growl at his order, “Send for her now.”

 

“Yes, your grace,” Barristan replied, trying to swallow the stone that seemed to be lodged in his throat.

 

He summoned a servant and sent them scurrying to find Queen Cersei.  The young woman did not try to hide the abject terror on her face as she walked away.

 

_ I’m sorry,  _ Barristan thought, but he returned to his position at King Robert’s side.  

 

A few minutes later, Cersei entered.  She strode forward with all the confidence of a queen, but her gaze lingered on Ser Barristan.  She seemed to be assessing him and he hoped that his face remained inscrutable.

 

“You called for me, Robert?”  She asked.

 

“Ser Barristan informs me that he caught you abusing your brother,” Robert growled at her.

 

She remained quiet, her eyes still flickering over to him.

 

“Speak,” the king barked.

 

“He was being ridiculous.  He refused his medicine that Maester Pycelle brought him for his throat.”

 

“So you grabbed his hair and slapped him?”

 

She opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and cast her eyes down.

 

“Damn it, Cersei!  The Kingsguard are not the help!  You can’t just abuse them at your whim.  You don’t even have command over them! And what is this I hear about you accusing Ser Barristan of harming you brother?”

 

Color blossomed in her cheeks and she pursed her lips.  “Jaime would never try to deliberately die. He must have been attacked!”

 

“Ser Barristan says he was there!  That he himself cut down your brother from his own noose.”

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

“Ser Barristan has never had cause to lie to me and I can’t see why he would start now,” Robert growled.  “You are banned from entering the White Tower.”

 

She glanced back at him in a fury.  “What about my brother? My twin? He needs me!”

 

“If he wants to see you, then he’ll damn well pull himself out of bed and visit you himself.  That is enough from you. Out of my sight!”

 

Cersei glared furiously at Barristan as she turned to leave.  He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. No doubt he had just created a lifelong enemy in her, but his sigh was partly one in relief.  He would have to keep an eye out for any covert means of her influence entering the Tower, but Jaime could defend himself against anyone else.

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for reading and giving this your kudos! And thanks to those of you commenting! It's interesting to read your speculations. I hope I don't disappoint!

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read and added a little to the end.  There may be further additions, but I remain undecided about that.**

**Chapter 4**

 

That evening, after his shift was done, he told the remaining Kingsguard that the queen was not allowed into the White Tower and the king had granted them the authority to keep her from going in.  He returned to his room to remove his armor and then stopped at Jaime’s door once more.

 

He knocked.  When he heard nothing, but silence, he said, “Ser Jaime, I am entering.”

 

He rather expected Jaime to remain abed, but instead he found him sitting in his desk chair with a book between his hands.  Jaime glared at him but said nothing.

 

“Have you eaten yet today?”

 

Silence still.  Jaime didn’t shake his head either, but continued to glare at him.

 

“I shall summon soup for you.  I expect it to be empty in the morning.”

 

Silence.

 

“You should be aware that the queen has been banned from the White Tower.  The Kingsguard now have the authority to eject her should they find her about.”

 

That at least earned him a sharper look.  “How did you manage that?”

 

“The Kingsguard are a proud organization meant to stand above the petty whims at court,” Barristan replied in a hard voice.  “No man or woman shall abuse them like they are little more than servants. We are better than that.”

 

“You told the king?”  Jaime snarled, wincing once more at the pain in his throat.  “Shall I expect a rude awakening in the night to remove my head?”

 

Barristan felt a muscle in his jaw work.  “I told the king that she grabbed you by the hair and slapped you.”

 

That actually earned him a flicker of surprise.   _ You lied?  You lied to your king? _ The look said, but still Jaime seemed wary and angry.

 

“You still told him that she took advantage of me,” he rasped.

 

“Whatever I think of you, Ser Jaime, I do know that you have never raised a hand against a woman and you never will.  To raise one against your sister and queen would be treason and your head would certainly be removed from your shoulders.  You resisted the only way you could. I understand that and that’s how I laid it out before the king. I am your ally. Whether you believe it or not, I do want to help you, to right what went wrong.  I will do what I can to show you that.”

 

“Stop saying you care.  You don’t!” Jaime whispered as fiercely as he could manage and he massaged his throat.  “You’re just curious to hear what could possibly have inspired me to end my life. I refuse to say.”

 

“That’s certainly one part.  But you are the second most senior member of the Kingsguard and that makes you my second-in-command.  You are also the most reliable, both in a fight and doing your duty to the royal family.”

 

Jaime did not even bother protesting, merely chuckled derisively and shook his head.

 

“I have sent a letter to your lord father about this incident.”  There was no mistaking the alarm on Jaime’s face at that news. “I suspect he shall be here with all haste.”  Depending on how many men Lord Tywin insisted on taking with him, he could be here in as little as a month.

 

Barristan stood in the doorway one last moment, hoping perhaps that would be enough to get Jaime to open up, but there was a defiant jut to his jaw and he continued his silence.  He closed the door and headed downstairs to order Jaime his dinner, wondering all the way how he had subverted so many of his values so quickly.

 

_ ‘I lied for him _ ,’ he thought with a troubled frown.  It wouldn’t sit right with him to see Jaime suffer as a result of his sister’s abusive behavior, but shouldn’t he suffer for the murder of Aerys?  ‘ _ The Gods appear to have absolved him of that,’ _ he thought.  Or was it the other way around?  Was not being allowed to kill himself a desire to punish him?  But then why would the Gods care? How many years had come and gone, and how many good men had walked through these halls and  _ not _ received the Gods’ aid?

 

Prince Rhaegar had been the best of them all with a few too many hasty decisions, but he had deserved to live over a cad like Jaime Lannister.  ‘ _ And yet the Gods did not step in to divert King Robert’s hammer.  It still struck true,’ _ he thought, his heart giving a lurch as he thought on that fateful day.  He’d already been wounded, barely alive, on the banks of the Trident, or Robert would never have gotten that close to his Prince.

 

After ordering food for Jaime, he intended to return back upstairs to his room, but found his feet carrying him out the door and it wasn’t until he saw the ornate crystal windows that he realized he was going to the sept.  ‘ _ It’s been awhile since I paid my respects directly to the Seven,’ _ he thought.  His questions certainly were better suited for Gods.

 

He lit a candle and placed it in front of the Father, staring up into his rectangular and carved face, silent and forbidding as the stone he was hewn from.

 

“Father, please grant me the wisdom to see your bidding done.  Of all people, why him? What is it that you hope to achieve? Was this revealed to me for a reason?  Am I doing the right thing?”

 

Pious and devout as he was to honor, he knew it would be the height of folly to go into detail.  Besides, if the gods were watching, they already knew them. He bowed his head again and said another silent prayer, peering once more into the face of the Father to find his answer.

 

A breeze didn’t even ruffle the candle flames.  He bowed his head once more and strode out of the Sept.  His head was still down as he walked across the grounds, but a noise caused him to glance up.  His hand went unconsciously to his waist, though he had left off any weapons. The queen was striding to him, dressed in a customary silk red dress with gold trimming and lace.  She was alone and despite the darkness he thought he could see fire in her eyes. His hand relaxed and he nodded at her.

 

“Your Grace,” he said quietly in the dark.

 

She was silent for a moment as she seemed to evaluate him.  “ _ Ser _ Barristan,” she hissed, the honorific sounding like poison in her mouth.  “Now, what would the good King Robert say if he knew his most honorable Lord Commander  _ lied _ to him about the circumstances of what happened between my brother and I?”

 

“He’d be a lot less concerned about me and a lot more concerned about your conduct, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan replied evenly, but his eyes strayed around the yard.  Her own guard of Lannister soldiers had to be hiding nearby in the shadows, just close enough to assist her if she needed it. He cursed himself for not keeping his sword at hand and vowed from then on he wouldn’t wander anywhere alone without it.

 

“So you did see,” she murmured to herself.

 

He remained silent, watching her as she seemed to think on that.

 

“Why didn’t you tell him?  I know you have little love for your queen.  You may try to hide it, but you hate me and you hate my brother.”

 

“I do not hate you or your brother.”

 

She chuckled and shook her head.  “Ser Barristan the Bold is bold indeed.  When did you become so good at telling lies?  You’re clearly not as honorable as you think.”

 

_ I’m less honorable than even you realize, _ he thought.  She was trying to rankle him, but for what purpose he could not see.  He cared a great deal about honor and being honorable. Young boys across the realm, rich and poor alike, looked up at him as a hero of old and he strove to be the man they all thought him to be.  That said, he was not unfamiliar with lying. He told white lies, of course, but he also had to engage in the real, dangerous lying. Closer to the end of King Aerys II, Prince Rhaegar had asked him to make his excuses at court and he had been forced to lie, to the king’s face, about the Prince’s whereabouts.  He remembered the king accepting his explanations with no small amount of suspicion. It was after one of these lies that he discovered the prince had absconded with Lyanna Stark.

 

The king had believed his lies and threw Brandon Stark into the cells for his foolish demands.  That of course, led to both the lord and heir burning in the court. Standing there by the king’s side as he watched Rickard Stark cook in his armor, he had been forced to come to the terms that it was his lie that had led to the Starks’ deaths.

 

He remembered looking across the throne over at Jaime Lannister, to find him pale and shaking in his armor.  He caught the young man’s eye and saw a desperate pleading there.  _ This isn’t right.  What are we doing? We have to save them. _  He’d been forced to give the barest shake of his head and then he had turned back to the spectacle, hoping his face showed none of the anguish that he was feeling. 

 

Barristan brought himself back to the present as Cersei continue to speak, “-have no right to separate me from my twin.  I must be with him in this difficult time.”

 

“In my experience, one doesn’t make a habit of hurting their loved ones,” he growled.

 

Even in the limited light, he could see her mouth form into a stubborn and angry line.  “What would you know about the bonds between twins?”

 

“All that I need to know, your grace, is that you  _ hurt _ a member of the Kingsguard.  I will not tolerate that kind of abuse from anyone, for any reason,” he said and turned to leave.

 

“Before you go, perhaps at least you’ll explain your other lie?”

 

He stopped and turned again.  “What other lie?”

 

She raised an object up in her hands and he could see the shadow of the noose.  He froze.

 

“I did my own investigating and found this at the heart tree.  You said you ‘cut him down,’ but the rope is burned. I may not be as knowledgeable about weapons of death as you, but I would think my brother would be dead in the time it took for a rope to burn through.”  She twisted the rope in her hands like she was breaking a neck. “You are clearly mistaken about the circumstances regarding my brother’s hanging. I will give you this chance to come clean with the truth.”

 

“I don’t know how the rope got burned, Your Grace, but it could be that someone attempted to burn it afterwards.”

 

She chuckled darkly.  “Now why would they do that?”

 

“It is not my job or inclination to know what I didn’t see.”

 

“Liar,” Cersei hissed.  “You may be better at telling mistruths than I anticipated, but your voice wavered in your explanation.  You  _ know _ what happened.”

 

He remained silent.  There was nothing he could say.  Even if he didn’t suspect the queen’s intentions, blurting out that the rope spontaneously burned through would cast doubt on his ability to lead the kingsguard.  He was certain he was of sound mind. And more, Jaime seemed to understand what he was talking about when he mentioned it. He turned to walk away again.

 

“Be careful, Ser Barristan.  It’s dangerous to be alone in the Red Keep,” she said back to him, but he continued.  Even without a sword, he had techniques to take the weapons from anyone she sent after him.   _ I doubt she would be so overt,  _ he thought.  It would be entirely too suspicious if something were to happen to him after Cersei got banned from the White Tower.  Even so, it never hurt to take precautions.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note** \- Good evening, everyone! Thank you all for reading and commenting and subscribing. I hope you continue to enjoy this piece!

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

 

**Chapter 5**

 

Ser Barristan found himself sitting at his desk once more figuring out the schedule for the Kingsguard.  He had lessened the Kingsguard’s presence for the queen and primarily allowed her own personal guard to handle her.  Now he just had to schedule for the king and the royal children.

 

An urgent knocking at his door startled him and he barked, “Enter.”

 

Jaime Lannister strode in fully dressed in his Kingsguard uniform.  His face was thunderous.

 

“Ah, Ser Jaime, what can I do for you?”  Barristan asked, glancing back down at the sheet again.  

 

Jaime sneered at him and managed to say, “Lord Commander.  I demand to know why I have yet to be put back into rotation.  I’m healthy and fit enough now. Have been for some time.”

 

“You can speak!  I was beginning to wonder if you’d lost your voice after all.”  

 

It had been nearly three weeks since Jaime had tried to hang himself.  At first Barristan had checked on him everyday to see his progress, but Jaime had refused to speak and had sat as silent as a glaring statue.  His visits had diminished to merely a few times a week, but still Jaime had yet to speak. Maester Pycelle had cleared him for guard duty a mere week after the incident, but Barristan had yet to reintroduce him to his duties.  To fill the hours, Jaime had gone to the training yard and mercilessly relieved his frustrations on other hapless knights. 

 

“Well?”  Jaime growled.  “There’s no reason for me to still be sitting out.”

 

“Except there is,” Barristan replied, watching Jaime carefully.  “You still have not told me why you attempted suicide or why the Gods decided to spare you.”

 

Jaime’s stiffened and he glanced towards the open door as though he expected someone to be there, listening to their conversation.  He closed the door and then turned back and snarled, “That’s none of your business.” 

 

“I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard!  When a member suffers harm it is always my business,” Barristan replied, his tone frigid.

 

“That information will go with me to my grave,” Jaime snapped.

 

“Very well.  You leave me no choice.  I’ll have to recommend you be removed from the Kingsguard.”

 

Jaime’s eyes went wide.  It was the first time he had seen him panic, but then he gained control of himself and shook his head, “You wouldn’t.”

 

“Ser Jaime, you father has been spotted on the Gold Road.  He will be here in a matter of days. You know as well as I do that he will demand your release from the Kingsguard.  There is nothing that I have to protect you. I can’t very well keep a Kingsguard that’s not able to do the duties he vowed himself to.”

 

“But I can!”   His eyes were wild as if he were a prey animal trying to find escape.  

 

_ For a disgraced Kingsguard, he’s not eager to leave.  Why though?  _ “I’m surprised you care enough about the Kingsguard to stay.  This is your chance to start over. If you’re so miserable as to take your life, then surely doing something else will do you good,” Barristan said.

 

“No, I can’t.  I…” Jaime couldn’t seem to find the words he needed and merely shook his head.

 

“All you have to do, Ser Jaime, is tell me what this is all about.”

 

Barristan watched him for a moment, marveling in the visible struggle on his face.  He was terrified.  _ Of what?  I’ve never seen him so afraid _ .  He returned to the schedule once more only to be interrupted.

 

“You would never believe me.  You’d say I was touched in the head and remove me anyway,” Jaime whispered. 

 

“I saw the Gods make the effort to save  _ your _ life.”

 

Jaime drew his mouth into a stubborn line and shook his head.

 

Barristan puzzled over his refusal.   _ How much stranger could this get?  The Gods aren’t allowing him to die.  If I actually tried to kill him, would they intervene?  If the king tried to kill him, would they intervene?  _ This was not the first time he had wondered about this, but just as before a strong compulsion suggested to him that testing the Gods’ patience would not go unnoticed by them.

 

“I...I must stay a part of the Kingsguard, Lord Commander.  Please,” Jaime said in a quiet voice, anguish all over his face.

 

He considered him again and then shook his head.  “I can’t have a Kingsguard with a compulsion to end his life.  He might not fight as hard as he could to save his charges if it came to that.”

 

Anger twisted Jaime’s face and his fists clenched.  Barristan had a feeling that he was currently trying to talk himself out of a violent response.  He let go of a breath, unclenched his hands, and slumped, defeated. “Fine. Come to my room at midnight,” Jaime said and left.

 

_ Finally, some answers,  _ Barristan thought.  He really hadn’t liked twisting Jaime’s arm like that, but if he hadn’t been so stubborn it would never have come to this.  Although he wasn’t sure if he recognized himself anymore. In just a few short weeks, he actively deceived his king - no orders necessary - blackmailed the queen, and then strong-armed his best knight.  Where  _ had _ this come from?

 

It was partly out of curiosity.  Barristan did also feel it was the Gods bidding that he find the truth of  _ why _ .  After all, they clearly hadn’t needed him to ensure Jaime lived.  After thinking back on that day throughout the intervening weeks, he thought of the strange feelings of unease and fear he had felt prior to following Jaime.  The feelings had come out of nowhere. After all, what was there to really fear in the Red Keep, especially for a notoriously dangerous knight like Ser Jaime? He was certain the Gods had deliberately led him to Jaime.  They could have let Jaime live and while he would’ve been highly suspicious of the clear rope bruise around Jaime’s neck, he would have no decent leverage to actually make Jaime tell the truth.

 

_ ‘I guess we’ll see.’   _ He was surprised to see his hand shaking when he dipped it once more into the inkwell.

 

**|-The Lion’s Fall-|**

 

Long after night had descended, Barristan stirred.  After Jaime’s visit, he had left his room to make everyone aware of the schedule, to make announcements, and eat.  The rest of the evening he trained in the yard until the light was so low he could barely see the wooden sword he practiced with.  Jaime had not made an appearance, but that was hardly new.

 

Now he started down the stairs, taking the steps quietly, and stopping occasionally to listen to the sounds of the night.  Deep in the summer, it was calm and warm, but there was a peculiar stillness to the air as though a storm were building nearby.  Once he came to Jaime’s door, he raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. Jaime had seemed so terrified. Did he really want to know what frightened Jaime so?

 

_ ‘I don’t see any other way,’ _ Barristan thought and finally let his hand fall against the door. 

 

He barely finished one knock before he heard a sharp, “Enter.”

 

Jaime was seated in his desk chair, dressed simply in a cotton shirt and sleep pants, still glaring.  Two candles flickered at the desk and sitting neatly between them was a stack of five books.

 

Once Barristan closed the door and walked a few paces in, Jaime swept past him with the swiftness of a cat and locked the door.  He then faced Barristan and whispered, “Before I let you do anything, there’s going to be some ground rules: you will come here only at night.  The door will always be locked. The books are never to leave this room. And you will not ask any questions until you’ve read my entire account.  Is that clear?”

 

“I understand,” Barristan said.  “So...you mentioned these books?”  He placed a hand on them, studying them carefully.  There were five books, not particularly thick in pages, which were plainly covered with no title and he noticed there was a layer of dust on them.

 

“That’s my account.  Everything I can remember.  I’m not the best writer, so it’s sloppy.  I tried to write down everything in order…”  Jaime trailed off and shrug. “Go on. Read.  I did put the books in order.”

 

Barristan was still watching Jaime as he sat on the desk chair and grabbed the first tome.  Jaime turned to lie down in bed, deliberately facing the wall. He took a deep breath and started to read.

 

_ 284 A.C., one month after Cersei Lannister married Robert Baratheon _

 

_ I don’t understand what is going on.  One moment I was in the middle of a blizzard fighting dead men and in the next I am back in my bed in the White Tower.  Younger, whole, no longer in a pit of despear. How can this be? It’s simply not  _ ~~_ posible _ ~~ _ possible. _

 

Barristan stopped there and looked up at Jaime, but he was still facing the wall.  ‘ _ Fighting dead men?’ _  He thought and felt himself shudder.

 

_ It was the last battle.  The Night King’s host was nothing shy of half a million wights.  I’m sure he had more than that. If I had to guess, I’d say they crossed the Narrow  _ ~~_ See _ ~~ _ Sea to desimate those in Essos and Pentos, just as he did everyone else in Westeros.  We were only ten thousand. Our king, Aemon Targaryen, refused to even be called that and only answered to his bastard name, Jon Snow.  ‘How can I be king when everyone is dead?’ he said to me. True enough. _

 

_ His  _ ~~_ queen _ ~~ _ future queen, Danerys Targaryen, was dead.  Her dragons were dead. As far as I know, I was one of the few of noble birth left.  My Brienne was dead. I miss her face, her honor, her loyalty, and her willingness to fight against impossible odds.  The impossible odds finally caught up to her. And I wasn’t there to watch her back. Was there ever a more poor excuse for a warrior and a lover as me?   _

 

_ I did help kill the Night King at least.  He was ready to kill King Aemon when I sprang on him.  If only I’d still held my blasted sword  _ Lionheart,  _ then I would have finished him altogether.  No, in my hurry to reach the king and prevent his death, I was jostled and the sword fell from my last remaining hand.  But there was no time to scoop it up. I constrained his arms and held him in place. Aemon was just sitting there. Even in the blowing wind and snow, I could see the dazed expression.  Blood poured out of a wound in his side. Curses, he was dead already! _

 

_ The Night King tried to turn me into a White Walker while I held him.  A cold swept through my body and I felt my limbs going stiff like I was already dead.  Aemon just sat there! Was he going to let me turn? Then he finally found his strength and ran us both through.  It was such a relief to finally die. I didn’t even feel the pain. I had longed for Brienne and if there was an afterlife, I longed to see her again before I was sent to Hell. _

 

_ But that wasn’t to be.  I was sent to Hell first when I woke up again on this earth, but not in the body I had just cast off, but a new one that was still whole, healthy, and untouched.  At first I thought this was a dream. Then I thought it really was Hell since all the people I knew were dead were wandering around without a care in the world. Then I thought that I had just dreamt my previous life.  Is that possible?! _

 

Barristan slammed the book shut.  “What is this nonsense?” He hissed.  

 

Jaime had turned over in that time and was giving him a look that was both somehow accusatory and disappointed at the same time.  “Told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

 

This caused him to hesitate.

 

“I...I don’t understand.  The Night King?”

 

“I told you my rules.  You will read everything  _ first _ , and then I’ll answer your questions.   Not before then.”

 

“I...I need some context here.  You said this was a previous life?”

 

“Yes.  It was a life I lived and died in only to be returned to here.  Keep reading,” Jaime snapped.

 

_ This is foolish, _ he thought.  He was seeking an answer to Jaime’s calamity and his second-in-command insisted that the answer could be found in these books that he had clearly written, which was passing strange in and of itself.  He had never known Jaime to write anything, not even a letter home to his family when King Aerys II was still alive. He’d even heard from somewhere, likely another lord, that Jaime was illiterate. Clearly he wasn’t, but the misspellings suggested he was bad at it.

 

He sighed and settled back in, opening the book once more.

 

_ I’m not going to tell my life story.  That’d be silly and pointless. This is to recollect what was important that I remember now and maybe key events, perhaps happen down the road.  It’s pretty clear that I still killed King Scab in this life since I’m still refered to as Kingslayer. No one knows or cares to hear that killing him meant preventting King’s Landing’s destruktion and all who reside there.  They just want to believe Ned Stark’s story that I am heartless, evil, and an oathbreaker, like my father before me. _

 

Barristan froze again and read that passage again.  And again. He glanced over at Jaime. The younger knight was no longer turned towards the wall and was staring at him with a hint of anger, but more wariness and caution.  Surely Jaime knew what passage he had just read and his eyes bore into him.  _ Jaime killed the king to save King’s Landing?   _ This was the first he’d heard of this.  He opened his mouth to ask, but caught himself.  

 

Girding himself for more, he kept reading,

 

_ It all started, when Lord Jon Arryn, Hand to the King Robert Baratheon, was murdered.  It was 298 AC. It’s the last year I remember with any  _ ~~_ clearity _ ~~ _ clarity.  Everything that follows is a muddled mess when you’re trapzing through the wildness. _

 

He’d barely started reading again when he stopped there and fear ran through his veins.  ‘ _ Jon Arryn?  Murdered?’ _  The kingdom would collapse without his steady hand to keep King Robert on task.  ‘ _ In 298 AC?!  That’s a mere four years from now.’ _  He felt a surge of energy and wished to leap to his feet to run to the king, but he remained rooted to his seat by incredulity.  He could not trust this account, not in the slightest. His Kingsguard who tried to kill himself appears to be deranged and yet...the Gods had saved him.  ‘ _ And according to this, they plucked him from another life and dropped him in this one.’ _  Once more, he glanced at Jaime, but he was lying with his face turned away now.

 

Despite the shakiness in his hands, he kept reading.  He very nearly reached for his dagger and killed Jaime when he talked about sleeping with his sister and throwing a child out the window for catching them.  As poor a writer as Jaime was though, his words were laced with regret and he took more than a few swipes at his sister, calling her a ‘snake.’

 

The breath was actually taken from him when he described his first encounter with “his” king, Aemon Targaryen.  He called him a “mopy bastard with a liar pretending to be his father.” He then goes on to lay out how Aemon Targaryen came to be.  Barristan set the book down and kneaded his temple for a few moments.  _ Prince Rhaegar’s last trueborn son and heir...is living in Winterfell?   _ It was ridiculous.  He had barely been up and walking around when Ned Stark returned to King’s Landing with his sister’s body and an infant in his arms.  As far as he knew, no one had even asked about the boy, waving it away because how important could a baby be? 

 

Once more, he regretted that Prince Rhaegar had not seen fit to include him on some of his schemes.  It was clear that he trusted Lord Commander Gerold Hightower to protect his loved ones. He had failed and Lord Commander Gerold had failed as well.

 

According to Jaime Lannister, Lord Eddard Stark betrayed his friend Robert Baratheon to save his nephew, by claiming him as his bastard instead.

 

_ ‘If it’s true,’ _ he cautioned himself.  But then why would Jaime make this up?  It was clear from the pages he had written that he detested Ned Stark for calling him Kingslayer and for everyone thinking he was so honorable when he was not.  

 

_ ‘This is insane,’ _ he finally thought.  Jaime Lannister was insane and in all probability should be put down like a rabid dog.  ‘ _ But the  _ Gods  _ saved his life!’ _  The thought intruded upon him again and he winced against the building headache.  He glanced at the four remaining books on the desk and groaned. He had to keep reading.  He had to know what inspired this insanity, because it was clear to him now that Jaime killed himself due to the lack of clear sanity in his life.

 

He was just reading Jaime’s account of heading to Riverrun with his soldiers when Jaime sleepily said, “You’re still here?”

 

Barristan shot up and looked outside to see a clear lightening of the sky.  Jaime was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, when he pulled his dagger and put it to his throat.  He was a little surprised when Jaime merely gave him an annoyed look.

 

“I should kill you right now.  You fathered the queen’s children?”

 

Jaime glared.  “Were you paying attention to what I wrote at all?  I know I wrote that I am not the father of Cersei’s children this time.”

 

“‘This time?’  And who is? I can only assume they’re not the king’s either.”  He lowered the knife an inch.

 

Jaime was looking at him carefully, seeming to gauge his reaction, and then he nodded.  

 

“Do you know who the father is?”

 

He frowned pensively and nodded.

 

“Tell me!”

 

It surprised him when Jaime looked merely amused.  “I guess I might as well. The father is dead anyway.  It was my Uncle Tygett.”

 

“ _ What?! _ ”  Barristan hissed, reeling back.  ‘ _ She goes from her brother to her uncle and her uncle was complicit?’ _

 

“Yes, apparently few men can resist a woman that beautiful,” Jaime replied bitterly.

 

“I must tell the king,” Ser Barristan said, striding for the door.

 

“You will not,” Jaime shouted.  Barristan turned to find Jaime’s sword leveled at his chest.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“You can’t tell Robert,” Jaime whispered fiercely.

 

“The king needs to know of the queen’s treachery,” Barristan snapped.

 

“No, the king does not need to know.  The king can go on with his life, whoring away.  And Jon Arryn can go and die trying to figure it out, as he did before.”

 

Barristan clenched his teeth.  “You have the power to change things and you refuse?”

 

“I have changed things or must I repeat: Cersei’s children are not mine.  They have a different father.”

 

“You are complicit in their deaths!”

 

“Then so be it,” Jaime whispered.  “I care not about them. What I do care about is my king Aemon Targaryen.  I can only meet him when I go North with Robert to collect a new Hand. And he can only take his throne if Robert is weak because he has no formal heirs.”  Voices outside in the courtyard caught their attention at that moment. “We can no longer talk freely. If you wish not to be a fool, come back here and continue reading my accounts.  You want to tell Robert? Fine, but let the deaths that ensue be on  _ your _ head.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Notes:** Hey, everyone, thanks for reading!  I appreciate all your support. And an extra thank you to those who comment.  Enjoy!

 

**Update 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

 

**Chapter 6**

 

Barristan stared back at him for a moment, torn with indecision.  Then he unlocked and pulled the door open and ran up the stairs. He had to guard the king this morning.  He really hadn’t expected Jaime’s explanation to take all night and _still_ he couldn’t say for certain why Jaime tried to kill himself, but there was definitely a hint in those pages.

 

After all, it wasn’t like Jaime had the power to bring himself to a different world.  The only ones who were likely to do that were the Gods and Jaime had just recently attempted to circumvent their work.  Would they prevent him from telling the king about his queen’s treachery? His stomach lurched at the very thought.

 

He dressed quickly and ordered a meal of oatmeal and grapes and then rushed to find the King.  He would likely be sleeping in late, but he had to relieve Ser Boros. He composed himself before rounding the corner to the King’s room and dispatched Ser Boros, who wasted no time in heading out.  Barristan took his position and waited. The turmoil he had kept at arm’s length while preparing for his duties overwhelmed him and he stewed.

 

 _‘If what Jaime says is true, this would explain some of his odder behavior when his sister married.  I thought he was merely upset that she was marrying, but this…’_  He shook his own head ineffectually.  He ran through the scenario again, knowing full well how dangerous it was to know some of these things.

 

Jaime had committed treason by not divulging his knowledge of Cersei’s progeny not being the king’s.  Despite how foul things had apparently gone the last time - though he hadn’t read very far - he had difficulty understanding why Jaime wouldn’t want to expose his sister, especially if he hated her so much.  

 

 _“He can only take his throne if it’s weak because Robert has no formal heirs,”_ Jaime had said and it caused his heart to ache.  ‘ _Jaime is prepared to bank everything he has on Aemon Targaryen taking his throne back.’_  It was one thing for Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys to be alive, but they were across the Narrow Sea, paupers, barely alive as it were, with assassins on their trail.  But Prince Aemon was here in Westeros, safe, and his claim was stronger than Viserys’. _I swore myself to the Targaryen’s first.  I am honorbound to protect Prince Rhaegar’s son,_ he thought.  He was caught off guard when a tear slipped out of his eye and he fiercely wiped it away.

 

Was he also honorbound to see him ascend to his rightful place on the throne?  Robert was a terrible king. Barristan admonished the Kingsguard on judging the king, but there was no denying his disgusting proclivities and his inability to actually govern led to a less stable realm.  Now knowing that Joffrey was not in fact Robert’s son, war was inevitable. The next in line was Lord Stannis and he had failed yet to secure his part of the line with a son of his own either. The Baratheon house was tottering.  It might very well depend on Renly reproducing, but rumors were starting to float around that Renly had a preference for men over women.

 

“Ser Barristan?”

 

He was brought out of his thoughts and turned to see Lord Jon Arryn himself standing out the door, giving him a puzzled look, with a sheaf of documents in hand.  “Are you well, Ser?”

 

“Of course, Lord Arryn.  My apologies.”

 

“Is the king awake yet?”  

 

“I have yet to hear him stir, my Lord,” he replied.

 

Jon sighed and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

 _‘You’re a dead man walking, Lord Arryn,’_ Barristan had so desperately wanted to say, but his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth and he merely watched helplessly as he entered the room.  Jaime hadn’t even mentioned how he died or who killed him, just that he was in fact murdered. Did Jaime ever find out who killed him? He internally sighed.  ‘ _I have to keep reading._   _And praying.’_  Surely since showing him they have a vested interest in Jaime, the Gods might be willing to shed some light on the accuracy of what he was recounting.

 

After a few minutes, a string of prostitutes in sheer gowns stepped into the corridor, giggling amongst themselves as they sauntered down the hall.   He kept his face stoic, but he wilted inside everytime. It was embarrassing guarding a king who couldn’t be bothered to act like one. Sometime later, the door opened again and Robert stepped out, grumbling under his breath.  Barristan instantly fell into step just behind Robert. Jon quickened his pace to match the king’s.

 

They discussed policy, though it was closer to Jon Arryn giving Robert a rundown on the actions the council had agreed to take.  Upon entering the King’s study, a servant was summoned and although plates of fresh fruits, sizzling bacon and sausage were presented, it was the wine that Robert reached for first and guzzled, taking little notice of the rivulets that ran out the side of his mouth.

 

Barristan felt his mouth tighten in disapproval.  ‘ _He seems to not care about the sacrifices made for him to attain this position and he squanders it by refusing to act the king.  A new king would be ideal and Joffrey is not a suitable replacement,’_ he thought.  He felt a pall of shock fall over him at the sudden treasonous turn his thoughts had taken, but it seemed as soon as he was aware that his beloved Prince Rhaegar still had a son alive, he could not simply shake it from his mind.

 

“Ser Barristan, Jon here says you were falling asleep at your post,” Robert barked.  Since the king only ever sounded gruff, it sounded like a rebuke, but he could see only curiosity in the king’s gaze.  Lord Arryn was still there, handing the king documents, and giving him a look of pleading.

 

“I was not falling asleep, your grace,” he replied, knowing that reply was hardly sufficient.

 

“You’re a rock.  Were you ever anything else?”  Robert chuckled. “But lately, you’ve been showing cracks.  I still have confidence you can protect me and my family, but I’m rather curious as to why you seem so distracted lately.”

 

“It was a long night, Your Grace, but I assure you, I shall not waver in my duties.”

 

The king sighed.  “You’re not answering my question, damn you.  Don’t give me half answers. Varys does that well enough on his own, but I expect a straight answer from the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard,” he growled.

 

Once more, Ser Barristan felt himself beginning to sweat in his armor.  Lying had never been one of his more accomplished skills and hiding the evidence of treason could mean his death.   _I cannot die while I know that Rhaegar’s son needs me,_ he thought.  He could settle on half-truths at least.  “It was Ser Jaime Lannister, your grace.”

 

“Oh, that pissant.  Is he still not doing his duty?  I can’t have a Kingsguard that won’t guard!”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.  I do believe he is finally ready to return to active duty.”

 

“About damn time.  Didn’t you say you needed him to speak about why he tried to hang himself?”

 

Barristan felt his heart falter.  He hadn’t expected the king to even remember the reasons he excluded Jaime from his duty never mind to be this dogged about it.  Then again, the king enjoyed juicy gossip almost as much as the ladies at court. “Yes, Your Grace.”

 

“So?”

 

“It-it was his sister, Your Grace.  Her abuse of the Kingsguard has been going on for far longer than either of us had realized.  Jaime felt there was no recourse and had enough.” Barristan had a feeling Jaime would hang _him_ if he ever heard the explanation given for his attempted suicide, but it was better than the truth.

 

“Is that all?”  Robert asked, giving him a suspicious look.  “I never expected the Kingslayer to be such a pansy.”

 

“That’s the explanation he gave to me, Your Grace.”

 

“I suppose Cersei is enough to drive a man to kill himself.  Thank the Seven there’s enough Arbour Gold or I might have joined him on that tree,” Robert barked a laugh, took a swig of his wine, and returned to the documents at hand.

 

Barristan quietly sighed in relief.  Just like that, he’d already decided to participate in Jaime’s treason, without even knowing the full extent of his experience.  

 

Tywin was near; he’d have to re-add Jaime to the roster tonight.  The Kingsguard would remain sanctified as an institution where the members remained for life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Good evening, everybody! I hope you all had a good day. Thank you for reading, commenting, and giving this fic your kudos! I appreciate all your support!

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

 

**Chapter 7**

 

The first thing Barristan did when he returned to the White Tower was inform Jaime he was clear to return to duty.  He wouldn’t forget the puzzled way Jaime had looked at him. After all, clearing him for duty meant that he trusted in his story, but he hadn’t said anything and instead went for the door to snap up shifts from his brothers.

 

Guarding the king, as simple as it was, left Barristan drained, so he returned to his quarters for a quick nap.   _ I’m getting too old for this, _ he thought as he drifted off.

 

Later that night, long after he’d awoken, he attempted to read more of Jaime’s accounts, but he found the room locked.  Jaime had undoubtedly taken a night shift guarding. When he was back from his shift, Barristan tried again, but he insisted they could only read at night and took an afternoon shift guarding the king.

 

Barristan ensured his nights for the immediate future remained free and that evening, he showed up again at Jaime’s door at midnight.

 

As per usual, Jaime glared at him, but let him in; the books were sitting out on the desk.  Once the door was locked, he said, “What did you tell Robert about me?”

 

“The king demanded an explanation for why you tried to kill yourself.  I told him the first thing I thought of,” Barristan said, rubbing his eyes.

 

Jaime scowled.  “Maybe tell me next time?”

 

“You didn’t give me a chance.”

 

“You could have stopped me.  I suppose it’s better to be thought of as a knight who couldn’t stand up to his sister than the alternative.”  Jaime certainly hadn’t sounded reassured and he supposed he shouldn’t be. The gossip in King’s Landing would no doubt poke fun at the greatest sword in the Seven Kingdoms being abused by a woman of all things, no matter her status.

 

“You’ll manage,” Barristan replied.  “Now, I shall continue reading.”

 

“Where did you stop?”

 

“Your brother had been kidnapped by Lady Stark and you were riding to besiege Riverrun.”

 

“Fuck Riverrun.  I’ll die a happy man if I never see that place again,” Jaime grumbled.

 

Barristan raised his eyebrows at him and flipped the book open.  He took some amusement from the fact that the Stark heir, despite barely being a man grown, had managed to pull the wool over both Tywin’s and Jaime’s eyes, capturing the younger Lannister in a surprise attack at night.  Jaime glossed over much of his captivity, claiming that he had little idea of what was happening in the world and as a result, his life was dreary and dull, though he mentioned a number of failed escape attempts.

 

_ What happened next was far away from me and I know about them because of my brother, Tyrion, and Brandon Stark, the Three-eyed Raven(this will be xplained much later).  Robert Baratheon was mortally wounded by a boar. His squire, Lancel Lannister (my fool cousin who fucked my sister while I was held captive) had dosed his wine so that he was much drunker than he realized and came off on the wrong end of the fight.  Ned Stark drew up Robert’s last will, which meant he would hold the throne until Joffrey came-of-age. Bran Stark suggested that Ned Stark had learned about the bastardy of Cersei’s children, and actually intended to contact Stannis to take his throne, since he would be next in line. _

 

_ Like a poor, honest fool, he told his moves to Cersei.  For once, that idiot Renly had sense and fled the  _ ~~_ capitoll _ ~~ _ city while he could.  He tried to take Ned with him, but again, fool.  He bid Baelish have the Goldcloaks ready in case Cersei put up a fight, but I do believe I’ve already mentioned what a trecherus snake Baelish is.  When it came time to take the throne, Joffrey was already upon it and there was a fight. Baelish pulled his knife on Ned Stark and Ned’s entire guard and household were slaughtered.  Sansa Stark was taken captive and Arya Stark somehow fled into the city. _

 

_ Joffrey eventually beheaded poor, foolish, Ned Stark.  And war was upon us because of my idiot sister and her idiot son. _

 

Barristan dropped the book and sighed.  ‘ _ Forget Ned Stark, the whole lot of them are fools,’ _ he thought.  So much hurt pride, but nefarious plots ran amok as well.  He felt for Lord and Lady Stark that their son was almost murdered in his sickbed.  Jaime had once more pointed the finger at Joffrey and Baelish had taken advantage of the situation to sow discord between House Stark and House Lannister.  ‘ _ Plots like these never flourished when King Aerys was sane,’ _ he thought.

 

He then said, “You allowed yourself to be captured by a green boy?”

 

Jaime huffed.  “Not one of my finer moments, but it took damn near a dozen men to catch me.”

 

The account then went onto say that old Balon Greyjoy decided to join the fight and turned Ned Stark’s ward Theon to betray his brother-in-arms, Robb Stark.  He took Winterfell out from under the Starks since it was left with minimal guard and ruled there.  _ That poor fool was never going to get away with that,  _ Barristan thought, shaking his head numbly.  He was shocked when Jaime stated that Theon had butchered the other Stark boys, but in the next moment he breathed a sigh of relief as Jaime said that Brandon and Rickon Stark had given Theon the slip and actually lived.  

 

Then Catelyn Stark had gone down to the dungeons and extracted an oath from Jaime to bring her daughters back to her after her two sons were supposedly murdered.  

 

_ Beleve it or not, I intended to fulfill this oath, no matter the consequences.  Kingslayer, Oathbreaker. No one expects me of all people to actually keep an oath anymore.  I wanted to prove them wrong, that even me, the Kingslayer, could still have honor. _

 

Barristan sighed sadly.  It was not often he thought back to that boy Jaime was before he murdered the king, but he had seen that a light had perished in his eyes.  As with most young men, he’d been hopeful, optimistic, and proud. He remembered being surprised at how different Jaime was to his hard and unforgiving father.  After the king was murdered, Barristan felt that Jaime had merely been hiding the side his father had cultivated in him until it was too late for King Aerys. Reading this account, he was less sure.  It was clear that Jaime had still acted like an arrogant sod with far too big of a head, committing atrocities where none needed exist, but the writing was frequently prefaced with Jaime’s proclamations about his own stupidity.

And a maid by the name of Brienne of Tarth was tasked with taking Jaime back to King’s Landing.  Barristan hesitated once more at the familiar name and he glanced up to find Jaime had fallen asleep yet again.  He looked to the window to see the familiar gray of dawn. He needed to leave.

 

Reluctantly he put the book back and headed to his room.  

 

Once he was abed, he expected to fall asleep right away, but his mind remained abuzz with the information he was receiving.   ‘ _ I’m buying into this insanity.  How can this be?’  _ He had already chosen to commit treason when he failed to run to the king about the true paternity of his children.  What would it hurt now to read Jaime’s accounts of his previous life?

 

It all seemed insane but, remarkably, it rang true.  Knowing the circumstances of how the war started, he could see exactly why the events had gone the way they had.  As curious as he was to continue reading the accounts that Jaime swore were true, he had a feeling the war was only going to get worse.  ‘ _ No mention of fighting dead men yet,’ _ Barristan thought and he shivered.  Jaime wrote that he had entrapped the Night King himself for this King Aemon to kill.   _ ‘He described the Long Night.  That happened so long ago, it might as well be myth,’ _ he thought, but the chill would not leave his bones.  

 

It was some time yet before he fell asleep himself.

 

**~*The Lion’s Fall*~**

 

Barristan hadn’t slept more than a few hours before he was up.  He was sure he must look tired, but he had duties to fulfill, and he wanted to investigate certain claims Jaime had made.  After sorting through some paperwork, he made his way to Grand Maester Pycelle.

 

“Ser Barristan, it’s not oft I see you.  Are you ailing?” Pycelle wheezed at him, his eyes narrowed.

 

“Do you have a book on the noble houses and their family trees?”

 

Pycelle cocked his head.  “Any particular reason?”

 

Barristan did not like the look in his eyes and simply growled, “That is my business, Maester.”

 

“Very well, ser, I meant no offense,” the maester replied meekly and then shuffled off.  “Here. Grand Maester Malleon’s original book  _ The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms  _ in its most updated edition.  I must ask that you return it by nightfall.”

 

Barristan simply nodded and returned to his room in the tower.  Initially he had meant to just look it up right there, but he misliked Maester Pycelle’s interest and had not forgotten the way he had easily gone with the queen’s assessment of her brother being strangled.  

 

He perused the pages for a time, stopping at the Baratheon tree and noticing with a wince how every Baratheon dating back to Orys Baratheon had dark hair and blue eyes, near the complete opposite of the current prince and princesses.  It was a wonder Cersei had been able to pass off her children as the legitimate heirs for so long. He finally got down to business and looked up the House on Tarth.

 

Lord Selwyn of Tarth was the current ruler as he perused through the tree, he noticed there was only one child left, a single daughter: Brienne, blonde of hair and blue of eye.  His breath froze in his chest. What were the odds that Jaime had simply found a young woman to write about as his love? According to the dates, she’d be but four and ten at this time, hardly a woman to look at in this time of her life and currently confined to an island.  He doubted she had even seen the mainland. ‘ _ She’s a woman grown by the time she’s tasked to escort Jaime back to King’s Landing.’ _  Jaime had described her as a warrior woman and there was nothing in this book that hinted at the personalities of anyone.  Women warriors were exceedingly rare, especially in the south - save for Dorne - so it was an unlikely to be a detail spun from whole cloth.  

 

This knowledge didn’t prove anything, but it was potential evidence of the truth all the same.  He slammed the book shut and returned it to Pycelle, taking little notice of the quizzical stare he received.  His next shift guarding the Princess Myrcella started in the afternoon, so he headed to the training grounds. As per usual, the grounds were filled with knights and squires going through their paces.  It didn’t seem to matter how often he came to the grounds, activity stopped briefly for everyone to give him at least a nod in greeting. The only one who didn’t was Jaime Lannister.

 

Typically, Jaime had no trouble finding an opponent to hone his skills, but he appeared intent on shredding a practice dummy.  As he approached, he noticed a line of knights nearby and they were laughing. Finally one of them, whom Barristan recognized as Ser Donal of the minor House of Garrett shouted, “You sure you can take that dummy?  You can’t even take a woman!”

 

Another knight crowed, “You tried to kill yourself over a woman because she hurt you.  Never thought your feelings could be so fragile, Kingslayer.”

 

Jaime stopped his assault on the dummy and slowly turned to face the crowd.  The smart ones shrank away and stepped back, but Ser Donal and the other knight just grinned maliciously.  “Care to challenge me then? Surely, the two of you together can best me. I’ll even use a wooden sword.”

 

Finally, the young men were showing sense and looked at each other warily.  “What’s the matter? You seem oddly hesitant to challenge a knight who couldn’t handle a woman.”  They scowled and entered the ring, unsheathing their swords. Jaime picked a wooden sword and waited in the middle.  He had forgone his armor and simply trained in his regular clothes. He was eyeing the two knights, evaluating his prey.  The grounds had fallen to a dead silence as the men watched.

 

One of them began stepping around behind Jaime, but before he could get in place Jaime lunged at the knight in front of him.  The knight startled and brought his sword up, but he was too late. He screamed as Jaime brought the wood down hard enough to break his wrist and then whacked him in the ribs once, twice, thrice until he lie unmoving on the ground.  

 

He then rounded on Ser Donal.  That knight had frozen as he watched his friend get pummeled.  Once Jaime was transfixed on him, he raised his sword, but from the look on the man’s face, he treated it like a shield to keep between him and Jaime more than a weapon.  Jaime approached slowly this time, stalking him.

 

Jaime came within striking distance, but the knight continued to circle.  He flinched when Jaime darted in one direction, his hands now trembling. Like a cat playing with a toy, Jaime engaged Ser Donal slowly with a vicious smile.  Quite suddenly he picked up the pace, but the knight couldn’t follow. The sword wavered in his weakened hand and Jaime knocked it out. Then he kicked him in his chest causing him to sprawl, but instead of putting the wooden sword tip to his throat and demanding a yield, Jaime stomped on the man’s arm and there was an audible crack.  He screamed and struggled, but Jaime had no trouble holding him in place. Then he bent down, raised the wooden sword high and brought it down, smashing into Ser Donal’s face. He bashed his face again and again.

 

“Ser Jaime, that’s enough,” Barristan snapped having rushed to stop him, holding the hand that was still raised.  “He’s done and learned his lesson.”

 

Jaime glared at him and yanked his arm out, tossing the practice sword to the ground next to Ser Donal, who was groaning, barely recognizable under all of the blood caking his face.  Then he crouched down and said loud enough for the entire grounds to hear, “Now, imagine I had done to the queen what I just did to you. What do you think would’ve happened to me?”

 

With that he walked out of the grounds.  The few knights that were standing in his path fell away from him like a school of fish parting for a shark.

 

“You four,” Barristan pointed at a group of the nearest knights.  “Get them to the Grand Maester. Show’s over!”

 

The training grounds slowly turned back to normal, but he could see many of the knights looking around warily as though they expected Jaime to spring at them.  No one was even going to think about taunting Jaime in the future without recalling this incident.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** Good day, everyone!  Thanks again for reading, commenting, and giving your support for this fic!
> 
> I had some concerns that the existence of this fic would cause confusion and I appear to be right, judging by some reviews I’ve received on TDR.  The Lion’s Fall and The Dragon’s Roar are two different stories that take place in two different universes.  The Barristan in TDR did not read Jaime’s account.  He knows the whole story because Aemon told it to him.  In TLF, this Ser Barristan saw the gods save Jaime and is reading this account.  If any of you are familiar with the game of Bioshock Infinite, it’s like that premise.  Booker made a decision in one universe, but in other universes he made a different decision and the two paths branched from there.

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

 

**Chapter 8**

 

The Princess Myrcella was having a tea party with other young ladies in the Keep when Ser Preston Greenfield strode in and said, “Lord Commander, the king requests your presence immediately.”

 

Barristan frowned.  “Did he say why?”

 

“Lord Tywin, ser.”

 

_ ‘That didn’t take long,’  _ he thought.  It surprised him that Tywin didn’t make a bigger splash when he arrived.  “Very well. I shall return at the earliest opportunity. In the study?”

 

“Yes, ser.”  

 

In a matter of minutes, he saw the study come into view.  He nodded to Ser Boros, knocked and the king’s voice boomed, “Enter.”

 

Once he walked in, he looked around astonished.  The king was sitting behind his desk with Jon Arryn on his left and Jaime Lannister, decked out in full Kingsguard armor, on his right.  Cersei was sitting in a chair facing towards her father, but barely on Robert’s half of the room. Tywin and Ser Kevan stood on their side of the room.  The look Tywin shot Barristan could have frozen a squire to death.

 

“You sent for me, Your Grace?”  Ser Barristan asked, moving to the center of the room.

 

“Yes.  As Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, it was imperative that you represent as the Kingslayer’s superior,” Robert said, for once looking sober and unhappy about it.  “Lord Lannister?” He gestured to move forward.

 

“My son attempts suicide and you all seem intent on keeping him in the Kingsguard when he is clearly unhappy.  I demand you remove him at once,” Tywin snapped, his voice like a growl of thunder.

 

“I wish not to be removed,” Jaime replied quickly, glaring into his father’s eyes.

 

“The Kingsguard serve for life,” Ser Barristan said at almost the same time.

 

“It very nearly ended his life,” Tywin shouted.

 

“And yet I’m still alive.”

 

Tywin fixed his son with his furious stare.  “Only just! You have always deserved to take your place as my heir and I’m not convinced this is not a way to seek just that.”

 

“I just told you that I have no desire to leave the Kingsguard.”

 

“Lord Lannister, would it ease your mind to hear why he made his choice?”  Ser Barristan asked. 

 

Jaime snorted.  “And how would you know?”  Tywin snapped.

 

“It was a condition upon returning to his duty that Jaime inform me his reasons for his actions in case adjustments could be made to prevent him from ever happening again.”

 

“What does it matter?  I wouldn’t expect you, Ser Barristan, to understand the toll it can take to be known as the infamous Kingslayer for killing a madman.”

 

Still Barristan flinched.  It was only recently he had learned that Jaime’s motives for murdering the king may have actually been altruistic.  Granted, it was Jaime’s word against a dead man what happened in that throne room, but Jaime needed him to believe his truth, so lying about the circumstances of the king being killed would entirely undermine the rest of his account.  ‘ _ Jaime could very well be playing me for a fool, but what purpose would that serve?’ _

 

“That’s not why I tried to kill myself,” Jaime replied in a banal tone.

 

“By all means, Jaime, enlighten us,” Tywin growled.

 

“Everyone already knows,” Jaime said and then locked eyes with his sister.  “Cersei.”

 

“She forced you to hang yourself did she?”

 

The color drained from her face, but she sat upright.  “You were the one who made things difficult, brother. Why couldn’t you just be happy for me?”

 

“Don’t lie, sweet sister,” Jaime replied with a sardonic smile.  “You wouldn’t allow me to be happy for you even if I had wanted to.”

 

Tywin rounded on his daughter, “What did you do?”

 

She was staring into his eyes but her lips trembled with unspoken words and then she glanced away and said nothing.

 

“We’ll speak of this later,” Tywin rumbled.

 

“She took advantage of her position as queen to abuse a member of the Kingsguard,” Barristan growled.  “As a result, Ser Jaime will no longer be assigned her guard under any circumstances.”

 

“Don’t speak as if you are allies now, Ser Barristan.  You’ve only been cold to Jaime since his grace took his rightful place as king.”

 

“We are allies.  He is my brother in the Kingsguard, my second-in-command, and my most reliable knight.  Whatever differences we’ve had in the past, we have worked through them,” Barristan replied, though it would be closer to the truth to say ‘working’ through them.  His life felt like it had taken a surreal quality ever since that day he saw the Gods work a miracle and it only continued with the revelations Jaime had put in writing.

 

“I hear nothing that argues for the reason Jaime should remain in the Kingsguard,” Lord Tywin growled.

 

“Then I’ll end the discussion,” Robert said, having remained remarkably quiet.  He stood up and raised himself as tall as he could manage, “Kingsguard serve for life, just as Ser Barristan said!  I will not break from tradition in my reign.”

 

Tywin looked around at all the faces glaring at him, against him.  Drawing his mouth into a angry line, he strode from the room and Ser Kevan followed on his heels like a dog following its master.  As soon as the door shut, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

 

“I need to return to my post.  By your leave, Your Grace?” Ser Barristan asked.

 

“Both of you are dismissed,” Robert replied warily, giving them a weak wave and turning once more to Jon Arryn.

 

He and Jaime exited into the hallway and began walking down it.  Except for one servant they passed standing outside the door, the hall was empty.  Barristan glanced at Jaime. His gaze wasn’t returned, but much of the anger that had been ever present since his hanging appeared to have leached from his face and he once more appeared young and exhausted.

 

“Jaime?”  They turned to see two figures sitting on the step to the outdoors silhouetted by the afternoon sun, one very short and the other tall.  “Jaime!” The smaller person waddled quickly over to him and it was only when Jaime bent down to hug him that Barristan realized it was his dwarf brother Tyrion.  The other man strode into view and he recognized Ser Addam Marbrand. There was no mistaking the worry on his face.

 

“Good to see you, Tyrion, Addam.  I’m surprised father brought you along.”

 

“It was a rough ride, but when we heard there was an urgent message involving you, we toughed it out,” Ser Addam said.

 

“Father hasn’t told us anything, but I’ve never seen him so...worried,” Tyrion said, brow-knitted in concern and confusion.

 

Barristan began stepping away, but he continued hearing their voices.

 

Jaime sighed and said, “I’m surprised you haven’t already heard.  I tried to kill myself a month prior.”

 

“What?!”  Both Addam and Tyrion’s voice echoed down the corridor in unison.

 

The rest of the conversation fell away as he walked back to the tea party with the ladies.

 

**|-The Lion’s Fall-|**

 

Barristan went to Jaime’s room a little earlier than usual, but the Tower grounds were silent.  When Jaime opened the door, he was once more incensed to see him.

 

“You’re cheerful,” Barristan commented.

 

Once the door closed, Jaime rounded on him.  “You need to be more careful with your daytime activities.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You went to Pycelle and borrowed his book on house lineages.  That’s what Jon Arryn did and it killed him. You might not die, but your strange behavior might cause Varys’ little birds to poke around here.”

 

“You didn’t mention  _ that _ in your accounts.”

 

“That’s because the details don’t matter.  His death was merely the catalyst to all the events you read.  I’m pretty sure I write more about it much later. Now, what, pray tell, were you looking up?”

 

“I wanted to see if this Lady Brienne existed.”

 

Instantly Jaime’s face softened.  “Does she exist?”

 

Barristan raised his eyebrows at him.  “She does. You didn’t know?”

 

“Well, I just...assumed, but I didn’t think to check.”

 

“Well, that part of your story checks out.”

 

“Just wait and see.  The pieces will start falling into place soon enough.”

 

Barristan hesitated to ask his next question, but he needed a strategy should the worst happen.  “Do you think your lord father will give up trying to get you removed from the Kingsguard?”

 

Jaime snorted.  “He’ll never give up.  He just has to wait for Joffrey to ascend to the throne.  Then he’ll make his grandson release me.”

 

“The Kingsguard is for life.”

 

Jaime raised his eyebrows and smiled at him like he was not in on the joke.  “You tell Cersei that when she has you removed. You’re her enemy now. You didn’t even need to be that for her to do it the last time.”

 

Barristan stiffened.  “What?”

 

“She and Joffrey remove you from the Kingsguard when he finally ascends.”

 

“That’s not in your account.”

 

“That’s because it wasn’t important.  You were entirely irrelevant to what happened.  All I know is that once she got rid of you, you fled across the Narrow Sea to aid Daenerys Targaryen.  You die over there. The end.”

 

Barristan sat back with this news.  His career in the Kingsguard was going to be inevitably tarnished and he was going to commit himself to a Targaryen anyway.  “Well, that makes the decision to back this Aemon much easier.”

 

“Careful about saying his name,” Jaime whispered.  “Don’t forget, the walls have ears.” 

 

Barristan heaved a sigh and reached for the second book.  _ 'This is insanity. Plotting the overthrowing of a future king within a stone's throw of his father,' _ he thought. If Jaime's words were true, then his life was to end protecting his rightful queen anyway and not the current imposter set to take the throne. He may as well commit his life to seating Aemon Targaryen and his intended Daenerys.

 

He had only just flipped open the cover of the second book when an echoing, hollow noise could be heard floating up the stairwell.  He and Jaime looked at each other in alarm. Jaime opened the trunk behind his bed and whispered, “Toss the books in here!”

 

Barristan winced as the books thumped into the trunk, but there were clothes covering the top layer which muffled the sound.  Then Jaime quietly shut the lid and then sat on the edge of his bed and Barristan remained in his seat at the desk, turned out towards Jaime.

 

The knob on the door turned and Tywin barked, “Jaime, open up!  We need to talk.” Jaime cast him a warning look as he unlocked the door and opened it.

 

“Yes, father?”  

 

Tywin stopped in his tracks upon seeing him.  “Ser Barristan. Passing strange for you to be visiting my son so late at night,” he said.

 

“Yes, Ser Barristan foisted these nightly chats onto me after my...incident,” Jaime replied, glaring at Barristan.

 

“It was a condition of Jaime’s return to duty that he discuss his troubles.  The Kingsguard must only be viewed as a source of strength, so when one brother attempts to kill themselves, it’s imperative that it be addressed,” Barristan said, frowning over at Jaime.

 

“I see,” Tywin replied in a tone suggesting the opposite.  “In the middle of the night?”

 

“It’s one of the best times I can be assured that Jaime will be in his room.”

 

“Very well.  If you don’t mind, Ser Barristan, I’d like to speak with my son.”

 

Barristan nodded and left.   He lingered in the dark a little ways up the stairs for some time.  It didn’t take long for their voices to become raised, but they weren’t audible enough to make out any words.  He was just far up enough the stairwell that when the door opened, he could not see who exited, but a lone person made their way down the stairs.

 

He returned to the landing Jaime’s door was on, knocked, and then slowly opened it.  Jaime had returned to his bed and was glaring at the ceiling. Barristan opened his mouth to say something when he dragged his eyes over to him and said, “Get out.”

 

With a sigh of defeat, he closed the door once more and returned upstairs.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** Good day, everyone! I hope your week is going swimmingly! Hang in there! Thank you all for reading. You’re a wonderful audience!

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

 

**Chapter 9**

 

Ser Barristan strode down the hallway at a clipped pace, his footsteps resounding against the empty halls.  He had just finished a night shift guarding the king; his temper and patience were wearing thin, but for more than just that reason.  It had been a month since that moment Tywin showed up in the middle of the night and Jaime had refused to share his accounts any further, locking his door in the evenings.  When Barristan had tried to ask Jaime what the issue was, his words were met with a glare, a quick look around at the walls, and a shake of his head.

 

It had baffled him.  Jaime was clearly spooked.  Was it his father that instilled this hesitance or something else?  He couldn’t say because Jaime wouldn’t speak to him about it. All the strides Barristan felt they had made since he began sharing this information seemed to have vanished like smoke in the air.

 

Reading Jaime’s recollections of future events had felt like being plunged into a cave with only a candle for light and then snatching those accounts from him had been like that candle had sputtered out.  He could only flail in the dark with the small amount of information he had gleaned from those pages. Jaime still held the lantern that would banish the dark entirely.

 

“Good day, Ser Barristan.”

 

The voice actually startled him and he reached for his sword before he had even turned to see who it was.

 

Lord Varys was suddenly at his side, bearing a placid expression, but all the same he took a few steps back and eyed the sword.

 

“My apologies, Lord Varys.”

 

“Deep in thought, I see?”

 

“Merely fatigued.”

 

“Might I suggest a walk in the gardens to reinvigorate and refresh?”  Varys said.

 

Barristan frowned.  The only walks he had ever taken through the gardens were because he was on the heels of one of the royal family members.  He could see by the earnest way Varys was looking at him that he intended to walk with him for some reason or another.

 

“Very well.”  He began heading over there at his usual quick stride, but had to slow down for Varys’ plodding.

 

“Always in such a hurry, Ser?”  Varys said, amusement coloring his voice. 

 

“There is always more work to be done, Lord Varys,” he replied, eying him.  As far as he could remember, he had never spoken with Varys. It was only ever when he was in the presence of the royal family that he had any cause to be around him at all.  He recalled now how the last time he’d been in Jaime’s room, Jaime had lectured him about drawing too much attention for Varys’ little birds to poke around. Now it seemed Jaime had not been too far off the mark about that. 

 

The eunuch regarded him quietly for a moment as they walked through the gardens.  It being so early in the morning, the gardens were empty. Most were likely still breaking their fast.  Varys finally broke the silence. “You have loyally served every king since you were accepted into the kingsguard, have you not?”

 

“That is correct,” he replied, seeing nothing in the question that would be cause for suspicion, strange as it was.

 

“We may not know each other well, ser, but I have been here since King Aerys.   You always tried to stay above the petty politics. You hardly missed a beat when your new king became our beloved King Robert.”

 

“And then Jaime Lannister attempts suicide and  _ you _ change.  Not him. He is as he ever was, but your attitude towards him changed.  You have been at odds for so long since he slayed King Aerys and now you appear to be allies.”

 

“The Kingsguard need to be strong.  As a member of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime has only ever been my ally.”

 

Varys looked at him in exasperation.  “Spare me, Ser Barristan, but your behavior has become...most peculiar.”

 

He said nothing because he was honestly confused as to what point Varys was trying to reach with this conversation.  “Suddenly the Kingsguard keeps the queen at arm’s length, the Grand Maester Pycelle loans you a book on the lineages of Westeros’ most venerable houses, and let’s not forget your late night chats with Ser Jaime.”

 

Barristan looked at him crossly, but it could easily be that they were known from when Tywin had interrupted a month ago. 

 

“What is your point?”  Barristan growled.

 

Varys narrowed his eyes at him.  “Something is amiss.”

 

“I’m merely trying to assist Ser Jaime in his recovery.  While visible wounds may heal in a matter of weeks, invisible wounds take longer.”

 

“Of course,” Varys replied in a tone that suggested he didn’t believe him.

 

Barristan sighed in frustration.  “Forgive me but what is the point of this conversation, Lord Varys?”

 

“You don’t concern yourself with being discreet, I see.”

 

“I can be discreet.”

 

“Not discreet enough.  Be careful, Ser Barristan.  Rumors fly, power shifts, and the game of thrones changes.  If none of us are careful, it will shift in a most unexpected way, and that could spell disaster.”

 

“For whom?”  Barristan asked, his lip curling in annoyance.

 

Varys once more looked at him as if he were a particularly slow child.  “For you. For me. For the realm. Death is but a step away. Make sure you take the right ones.”  

 

With that he shuffled off while Barristan stared at him with a mixture of shock and confusion.

 

_ ‘What is he referring to?  He obviously was too afraid to speak it outright,’  _ Barristan thought.  He thought back on their conversation as he resumed his path to the White Tower.  ‘ _ To what was he referring?’ _  He mulled the conversation, but much of it was trying desperately not to say something.  ‘ _ Have his ‘little birds’ been stalking Jaime?  Do they know about his books?’ _

 

The thought stilled his heart and confused him too.  What  _ would _ anyone think if they read those books that were supposedly about the future?   They should rightfully think Jaime insane like he had and he’d had the benefit of seeing the gods at work in his life.  Was it possible that it would ludicrously be thought of as a map to the future? 

 

_ ‘King Aemon would be in danger at the very least,’ _ he thought and that was enough to galvanize him as he picked up his pace.  It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to reach the tower and he eyed it suspiciously like he expected it to be on fire.

 

He hadn’t expected Jaime to be sitting in their eating area, enjoying some kind of drink, and he glanced over at Barristan disdainfully before returning his attention to the fire.  He seemed oddly transfixed by it. He looked at the fire himself and stiffened.

 

A plain cover book was merrily burning, the flames licking at and wrinkling the leatherbound cover in the heat, the pages within crinkling as the flame devoured them.

 

“What are you doing?”  Barristan whispered frantically.  He glanced around for a poker and found none, not that it would’ve mattered.  The book was gone, the ink staining its pages now smoke in the air.

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?”  Jaime replied.

 

“You’re burning a book.  I may be just a warrior, Ser Jaime, but I find books to be rather useful and one should never purge the world of the knowledge they carry.”

 

“I obviously disagree.  Some books are worth burning.  Their knowledge can be dangerous,” Jaime said, a surprisingly nonchalant expression on his face.

 

Barristan felt paralyzed.   _ Did he burn them all?   _ He looked around and saw no other books.  Were they already ash in the fire pit? He hurried upstairs, shaken.  Would he now never learn the truth? He had barely gleaned any of it before Jaime had unceremoniously ended their sessions.

 

After his talk with Varys, he at least understood that he couldn’t have a more in depth conversation until later.

 

**~*The Lion’s Fall*~**

 

As Ser Barristan promised, he was back at Jaime’s door in the middle of the night and he rapped impatiently on the door. 

 

“Jaime, let me in.”

 

He heard nothing at first and continued to knock until the door fell away under his hand and Jaime glared at him.  “Was that an order?”

 

“Would you have heeded it any faster if it were?”  Barristan growled at him as he stepped into the room and stopped short at the four books piled back on the desk.

 

“You would be a lot less grumpy if you jumped to fewer conclusions with little evidence,” Jaime said with no small amount of glee in his voice.

 

“What was that downstairs then?”

 

“I think I mentioned being concerned about Varys and his little birds poking around.  Your conversation with him this morning suggested I was right to be concerned. I was counting on your panic to make him and his little birds believe I’d burned everything.  They might cotton on eventually that I didn’t, but by then it’s too late.”

 

“Too late?”

 

“They won’t have all the information to make their plans.  The only thing worse than having no information is just some.  Because then all you can do is speculate and the odds that your speculations will lead you to the correct answer is rare.”  

 

_ ‘There is truth to that,’  _ Barristan thought, thinking over his irritation at floundering over the last month.  He had nearly driven himself insane speculating. How had Jaime survived for so long having this knowledge?

 

Jaime locked the door and waved his hand.  “By all means, continue.”

 

Barristan flipped through the pages to find the right passage.  

 

_ I was a right cad to Brienne as she dragged me along.  I was still bound by my hands, without a weapon, so I used my only other weapon available: my tongue.  She had to make do with a colorful list of insults about her looks and likening her to a man. I know it wore her down, but she was resolute.  At one point, I managed to get my hands on a sword from a nearby dead man and we got into a fight. I was so weak from being imprisoned that she was the one who toyed with me rather than the other way around.  It was humiliating. _

 

_ Unfortunately, our fight caught the attention of Bolton men because I’m an idiot.  It’s not like I shouldn’t have known. She warned me. I knew we were deep in enemy territory still.  We were going home, but instead of helping her, I antagonized her. And I paid the highest price I could. _

 

_ I saved her from being raped at least.  Made up some lie about her island being full of sapphires.  They bought it and then they took my hand. My swordhand. I have never been in so much pain my whole life.  It was like I never knew what true pain was until that day. It consumed me. I lost the will to live. Brienne haranged me.  She willed me to live. I would have died if not for the truth that spilled from her lips. I owed her my life, I owed her my truth. _

 

Barristan grimaced as he stopped reading to flex his right hand.  It had seized and now burned with sympathy for Jaime’s injury. ‘ _ He defined his entire life around that hand,’  _ he thought.  It was easy to see now why he had worked so hard to train his left hand.

 

_ She was the second person I spilled the secret to about killing the king.  The first was Tyrion. I still don’t know why I did it. My head was swimming with fever.  I think I was tired of being called dishonorable and, of course, kingslayer, like it was my name.  That damn word haunted me to my grave. But I told her. When my father sacked the city, Mad King Aerys ordered me to bring him my father’s head.  Then he turned to his pyromancers and commanded them to light the wildfire cashes they had stored under the city. He said, “Burn them all.” That’s all he ever said those last few hours. _

 

_ I couldn’t just stand there and allow him to murder every last man, woman, and child in King’s Landing.  A knight’s first vow is to protect the innocent. No matter what Barristan the Bold or the oh so honorable Ned Stark say, a king’s life is nowhere near the value of half a million souls.  So I killed the pyromancers to prevent them from carrying the order out. And then I turned my sword on the king and made sure he could never make such a crazed order again. With it went my last shred of honor. _

 

If Barristan had been holding the book, it would’ve tumbled to the floor from his numb hands.   _ ‘He murdered the king because the king was going to kill everyone in King’s Landing.  Is it true? Is it too outlandish for a madman to order the murder of thousands?’ _  How paranoid and panicked was Aerys?  He wasn’t there, he was in a sickbed. With the death of his son, the king was bound to have spiraled even further into madness.  Then Tywin Lannister, an old friend, betrayed him just as his enemy was on his doorstep. That might have been the last straw that broke the cart and caused the wheels to fall off.

 

He slowly turned to Jaime, his mouth open, but he had no words to say.  Jaime snorted at him with derision. “So now you know my secret. Tell me Ser Barristan, did I make the right choice?  Should the king have died?”

 

He tried to speak again, but the words couldn’t seem to come.   ‘ _ How monstrously have I treated Jaime since that day?’   _  He had  _ hated _ Jaime.  It had grieved him, though not surprised him, that King Robert had allowed him to live and stay a part of the Kingsguard.  He felt it sullied his  _ own _ honor to have to tolerate that bastard.  He thought he had borne that stain in stride, but now his face heated with shame at his behavior.  Finally, he managed to unstick his throat and said in a broken voice, “Yes, you were right. No king should have the power to command the death of half a million innocent souls.”

 

Jaime nodded though his face was showed none of the smugness he had expected to find, but a sharp anger.  This had clearly been an injury he’d been nursing since all the way through his last life up to now. It had  _ crippled _ him to be known by such a name as Kingslayer.  

 

“I can see why you hate Lord Stark.  Do you hate me?”

 

Jaime sneered.  “I should hate you.  You were one of the ones I looked up to, whom I wanted to be the most.  When you said you ‘knew I was too young to be in the Kingsguard,’ it was like a dagger to the heart.  I thought perhaps you of all people might understand if you knew the truth, but you never even asked. And I was bound by my vows to keep my King’s secrets.  No more.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Barristan whispered.  “I was wrong. You were right.”

 

“There it is.  The reason why I can’t bring myself to hate you like I hate Ned Stark.  Despite all the shit that I’ve been through, all the pain and suffering, I knew I could always trust you to be there.  To have my back. Believe it or not, I was pretty pissed when I heard you had been dismissed from the Kingsguard. I pretended it was about your reputation, but the truth is, I could’ve used someone who wasn’t my father in the Red Keep.  With you gone, the place became completely overrun with sickening creeps, treachery, and backstabbing. It was no place for a sane person lest they forfeit their own sanity.”

 

“You’re also the only person who still calls me by my given name and not Kingslayer,” he said and spat the moniker like it was cursed.  “Now keep reading.”

 

_ I have no idea when I fell in love with Brienne.  Maybe when it was the bath we shared in Harrenhal where I spilled my deepest secret.  Whenever it happened, I couldn’t leave Harrenhal without my wench. Creepy, treasonous bastard Roose Bolton, the one with the flayed man for a house flag - why would anyone want something so crude and vulgar adorning their house? - betrayed Robb Stark and provided me with an escort back to King’s Landing.  He originally left Brienne to fend for herself. After he left Harrenhal to rejoin Robb Stark, his men threw her into a pit with a grizzly bear and gave her a wooden sword to defend herself. I forced my escort to go back for her and found her in the worst pink dress I have ever seen. The person who created that monstrosity should have been put to death over it.  I saved her from the bear and we continued on to King’s Landing. _

 

“I’m rather keen to meet this Brienne.  She sounds quite the character.”

 

“She’ll hate me, just like she did before for killing the king,” Jaime replied and he had a surprisingly wistful look.

 

Barristan raised his eyebrows at him and then cast his eyes to the book.  ‘ _ Kingsguard are not to take lovers,’ _ he wanted to say.   _ ‘Kingsguard are also not to conspire to commit treason either.’   _ He could probably still confess to the king everything he knew and face minimal punishment, but the chaos that would ensue would be brutal.  Lord Tywin would never accept his grandchildren were illegitimate and go to war for the throne as he obviously did in these accounts.  _ ‘There will be war no matter what, but at least, this way, we might be able to control it,’  _ he thought.  With knowledge like this at hand, he had valuable insight on certain people, their trustworthiness, and what they were capable of doing.

 

Getting back to the book, Jaime surprisingly started talking about the Robb Stark camp.  The foolish boy broke his promise to Lord Walder Frey and married a woman he had dishonored in the heat of the moment.  He had never met Lord Frey personally, but he did remember hearing about Lord Frey and his men showing up  _ after _ the battle of the Trident had already been won.  No one seemed to trust his excuses for not being there as commanded.  And having just read that Roose Bolton betrayed Robb Stark and was on his way to meet him, Barristan had a sinking feeling in his gut.

 

He was rather proud at how unflappable he could be at the most surprising of circumstances.  That had been tested lately with Jaime’s incident, but that felt like nothing compared to reading about the Red Wedding.  Tywin had orchestrated the slaughter of Robb Stark, his closest advisors, and his army during the wedding between Edmure Tully and “some Frey girl.”  Not even Robb Stark’s wife or mother were spared.

 

With that, Barristan shut the cover on that account, staring numbly at the wall.

 

“My father’s a cunt, isn’t he?”  Jaime growled.

 

Barristan gritted his teeth.  “Of course he could do something so heinous as orchestrating the breaking of guestright.  The routing of the Reynes and Tarbecks, sacking King’s Landing, it’s just one more atrocity in a long line of others for him.”

 

“‘But I didn’t break guestright.  Lord Frey did. Tell me, why is it so dishonorable to kill a dozen men at dinner than a thousand men on the field,’” Jaime parroted in a passable imitation of his father’s gruff voice.

 

“He said that?”

 

“Of course he did.  It never flew with me, not to mention the Northern army’s back was broken and many of its men slaughtered, so it wasn’t  _ just _ a dozen men at dinner.  It was thousands of poor drunk bastards who couldn’t defend themselves,” Jaime seethed.  Then he glanced at the window. “You better leave. I’ll burn that one when no one’s looking now too.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Notes:** Good day, my wonderful readers!  I hope you are all having a great week.  Please forgive any typos. I haven’t had time to read this over.

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

 

**Chapter 10**

 

Over the course of the next month, Barristan read all of Jaime’s accounts and he found the revelations within the pages shocking and dismaying.  It seemed even before the Night King had made his presence known, his ability to cause panic and discord and madness appeared to have filtered down into the kingdom.  

 

King Joffrey was poisoned at his own wedding by Olenna Tyrell, but Cersei apparently couldn’t resist getting rid of her most-hated brother, Tyrion.  In the chaos of the wedding, poor Sansa Stark was absconded with by Petyr Baelish. She had gone willingly because of Joffrey’s beatings and he felt for the poor lady, who was beaten by members of his own Kingsguard, Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount.  

 

_ It took everything I had not to run those bastards through when I saw them again in this new life.  No respectable Kingsguard participates in his King’s cruelty. It was bad enough having to stand there and listen to Rickard Stark’s screams as he burned alive in his armor, but to assist my king?  I’d sooner slit my own throat,  _ Jaime had written.

 

For so long, he felt that he and Jaime were at odds with each other about a Kingsguard’s duties to his king and attitudes, but he was discovering more and more that he and Jaime both believed in the traditional ideals of the Kingsguard.  

 

What followed was a catastrophe of justice as Cersei lined up false witness after false witness to testify against her brother.  He was rather surprised that Tywin Lannister allowed this spectacle. Not to his surprise, Tywin had worked on getting Jaime to abandon his duties as Kingsguard and it was only with his brother’s head on the line that he declared he was willing to abandon his duties in exchange for Tyrion’s life.  Except Tyrion didn’t accept that bargain and called for a Trial by Combat.

 

As soon as he saw the names of Oberyn Martell and Ser Gregor Clegane - was there ever a knight that  _ least  _ deserved that honorific? - he knew it was going to end in disaster.  Jaime apparently couldn’t bear the thought of his brother being executed for a crime he didn’t commit and sprung him from jail.  Tyrion then earned his execution by murdering Tywin Lannister and jumped ship to Essos.

 

With the death of their father, the queen seemed to spiral further into insanity by foolishly arming the faith militant.  Jaime was ordered to break the siege at Riverrun and he dutifully left for that.

 

“Certainly not one of my smarter moves,” Jaime said to him with a defeated sigh.  “I was still in denial about Cersei’s insanity. I can’t believe it took me so long to see it.”

 

Upon Jaime describing the destruction and aftermath of Sept going up in wildfire, Barristan closed the book and said, “I’m not sure I can read anymore of this.”

 

“Try living it,” Jaime grumbled.  

 

_ ‘Queen Cersei needs to be as far away from power as possible,’  _ Barristan thought.  Jaime was clearly biased, but there was no writing off an act of destroying the sept, murdering the Tyrells and the Seven only knows how many innocent people as happenstance.  ‘ _ She didn’t show up at her own trial, she had to have at least known, if not orchestrated it.’ _

 

“I know you said no questions, but...does this mean there’s still wildfire caches located throughout the city?”

 

“Yes,” Jaime whispered.  There was no mistaking the haunted look in his eyes.  

 

“It should be destroyed.”

 

He snorted.  “How? It’s dangerous even when it’s just sitting alone.  It’s too dangerous to transport either.”

 

Ser Barristan just shook his head.

 

Jaime refused to allow him to read in successive nights.  Their meetings were sporadic and now that he’d gotten as far as he had, it was becoming a fight as whether he looked forward to the meetings or dreaded them.  ‘ _ Little wonder why Jaime has nightmares,’  _ he thought.  He was beginning to have unpleasant dreams himself of the entire city going up in green flames with Cersei standing nearby with her pleased smirk.

 

Nearly every night after reading, he’d retire to his bed thinking, ‘ _ Jaime is describing people at their worst.  He may not be truthful. None of this may be the truth.’ _  But the little voice that was trying to deny seemed to be growing more ineffectual by the day.  The Seven or the Old Gods, whichever, whomever, had plainly intervened because they had hung their hopes on Jaime possibly stopping this future from unfolding.

 

And Barristan would be damned if he stood in his way.

 

The greatest challenge he found was trying to treat people as he had before this information.  He had long disapproved of Ser Meryn, Ser Boros, and Ser Mandon, but hearing their complete misdeeds that stained the Kingsguard made him shorter with them than normal and he refused to allow  _ anyone _ to change their shifts for any reason.  This aggravated Jaime because he otherwise just stewed in his memories in his room, but the Kingsguard needed better discipline.  

 

He doubted it would actually change them for the better, but it did lend him some satisfaction to see their irritation at the recent changes.

 

Lord Varys never made eye contact since and seemed content to pretend they had never spoken.  Ser Barristan was keen to accept the mutual agreement, but he often found himself thinking about what Varys had hoped to achieve.  He’d asked Jaime about it one night and expected similar confusion, but he was surprised when Jaime actually answered.

 

“You looked into the lineage book.  He probably thinks your main concern is Cersei’s bastards.  But that doesn’t happen to be your main concern,” Jaime replied, a smirk on his lips.  “You may have misled Varys in your own confusion. It’s dangerous to underestimate a person.  Even more dangerous to overestimate them.”

 

“Are you sure?”  Barristan asked with a frown.

 

“His little birds haven’t found the accounts.  I assure you, I would know if they had.”

 

A week or so after the last reading session, Barristan was on the heels of Robert as he headed toward the small council chambers.  Lord Arryn had demanded his presence there. He was one of the few whom the king allowed to direct him though he went grudgingly. 

 

When they entered the chambers, everyone stood upon seeing the king’s entry.  Ser Barristan frowned upon seeing a new face gazing earnestly towards the head of the table.  They bowed and sat at the king’s order. Barristan unabashedly stared at the new person. It was, after all, his position to assess threats and a new person, especially on the small council was worthy of assessment.

 

He was a lean fellow, with a neatly trimmed, goatee.  Though he appeared rather young, there was already silver decorating his temples, streaking his otherwise dark brown hair.  His smile was earnest, but his eyes glittered in a way Barristan did not like.

 

“Ah, the new Master of Coin,” Robert bellowed.  “And you are?”

 

“Petyr Baelish, Your Grace.  I’m sure Lord Arryn will have told you about my successes managing the accounts at Gulltown,” he said in an unctuous tone.

 

Barristan thought his heart leapt in his chest and he struggled to control his expression.  ‘ _ I see why Jaime prefers to wear his helmet,’  _ he thought.  ‘ _ It’s coming true.  Jaime’s accounts are slowly coming to fruition.  How is this possible?’ _

 

“That’s right!  Turned that town around, I heard.  Do the same with the accounts of the crown and you’ll be justly rewarded,” Robert replied with a belly laugh.

 

What was an otherwise boring meeting, Barristan spent most of it trying to keep his reactions controlled.  His blood was up and he could feel the excess energy in his limbs. It took everything he had to keep his armor from rattling as he trembled, not from fear, but the urge to kill.  

 

_ ‘Killing him here and now wouldn’t solve anything.  It may make the world a slightly better place, but the war would happen with or without his involvement,’  _ he consoled himself.  Eventually, the desire for action left him, but his thoughts continued to whirl in his head.

 

Certain truths that he had adhered to for his whole life felt like they were being subverted - no, they  _ were _ being subverted.  Good did not always conquer in the end.  The Kingsguard were not infallible, thanks in part to Robert appointing knights not worthy of the position and also his failing to insist upon that standard.  Ser Jaime Lannister was not the murderous Kingslayer, but a knight who made the best decision he could in a harrowing moment.

 

He and Jaime had come to an uneasy truce.  After so long despising one another, Jaime was still terse with him - not that he could blame him - but he recognized that he was on his side by virtue of the fact that he hadn’t run to Robert.  And at this point, he never could run to Robert. The king was slowly failing his kingdom. Even if Barristan felt safe offering advice, he was certain Robert would never take it. Even without Jaime’s revelations, there would be war regarding the line of succession and he had every intention of assisting the true king.

 

Once Barristan was allowed into the room and the door was locked, Barristan whispered, “Baelish has arrived.”

 

Jaime grew tense and nodded.  “I know. That’s why I let you in here.  You have to finish the last book tonight.”

 

Jaime had already burned the rest.  It pained Barristan that he felt it was a necessary evil because it was possible that they could misremember things that they should keep in mind.  ‘ _ Except we don’t want this future to happen,’  _ he mused.  Still, it could be used as a means to figure out what moves Petyr Baelish or Varys might make next.  ‘ _ I’ve trusted Jaime this far, I have to trust him on this one too.’ _

 

They would also prove poor as a record.  It was unlikely that if they referred someone trustworthy to these accounts that they’d actually be believed.  This was likely going to be a secret they would have to keep for the rest of their lives. 

 

“It’s pretty short and ends in tragedy, as you well know,” Jaime muttered.

 

The previous book had ended with Lady Tyrell confessing to being behind the murder of King Joffrey, not that anyone would miss that brat.  At this point, all of Jaime’s children with his sister were dead and it seemed to weigh on him despite the fact that he had never been allowed to be a father to them.  No matter the atrocities the mother had committed, Myrcella and Tommen had hardly deserved their fates.

 

With a pained sigh, he opened the book and began reading.  He’d felt nauseous upon learning that Euron Greyjoy asked for Cersei’s hand in marriage and then proceeded to do her bidding.  ‘ _ I can’t think of a worse pair to lead a kingdom,’ _ he thought.  It was a shame Euron had already been banished when Balon Greyjoy attempted his rebellion.  He had a feeling Jaime would’ve made the extra effort to kill him.*

 

This one opened up with the Battle on the Gold Road and Jaime described in graphic detail how he watched his men burn alive by Queen Daenerys riding her dragon Drogon.  It brought Barristan back to the day when King Aerys burned Rickard Stark, but this was on an unprecedented scale not seen in nearly three hundred years. It churned his stomach.

 

Then Jaime charged the dragon with the intent to kill Queen Daenerys.

 

He glanced over at Jaime.  “You can’t have possibly expected charging the dragon to work.”

 

“It was worth a shot.  I didn’t want her burning anymore people alive by her dragon.  Turns out we needed the damn thing,” he said.

 

“You’re making a habit of attempting death-defying stunts.  I better not see you do anything like that again,” Barristan growled at him again.

 

“It was war,” Jaime hissed.

 

“It was stupid,” Barristan replied.  “Your own man Bronn even thought so.”

 

“He just wanted a damn castle,” Jaime said and then grew wistful.  “He never did get it.”

 

Then there was the child.   _ My greatest stupidity,  _ Jaime had written.   _ I apparently got Cersei pregnant again.  Had I learned nothing after our last three children perished?  The first thing she does is manipulate me with the news of her pregnancy, referencing a meeting I had with Tyrion as treasonous.  I never did learn the fate of that child. _

 

Somehow Tyrion managed to get both Jaime and Cersei to the table regarding negotiations about the Night King threat, though that’s not how it was initially phrased.   _ Cersei would’ve laughed them out of the city if she knew that this was going to be about the issue of the Long Night.  Aemon was at least smart enough to phrase it differently, but his damn Stark honor got in the way. Cersei may be mad, but she’s not a fool. _

 

Jaime’s words regarding the wight made his skin crawl.  The creature that had screamed and ran at him had been unmistakably dead with peeling skin and patches of exposed bone.  It still writhed and screamed even after the Hound cut it in half. Aemon, who had yet to be told of his heritage at this point, demonstrated how to kill it with fire and dragonglass, though Valyrian steel also destroyed it. 

 

_ Aemon refused to deny that he and Danerys were allies.  Cersei refused to commit and I followed in her stead, even knowing what a mistake that was.  Brienne tried to talk sense into me, saying this was more important than honor and oaths, but I shot her down, because I am a fool.  Tyrion  _ somehow _ talked sense into Cersei and she came back and declared she was committed to the cause.  I started organizing the army to march. Cersei interrupts the planning to tell me how stupid I am and said that she had no intention of committing our forces at all.  She’d sent Euron to collect The Golden Company, that’s why he left. Not because he really was scared (I did wonder if there was anything that could scare that crazy bastard).  I told Cersei how ridiculous that notion was, that we’d die no matter who won the war against the Long Night. She accused me of treason and threatened to kill me with the Mountain.   _

 

_ That was it.  That was what finally made me leave her.  I called her bluff and walked out of there.  I knew that tiny amount of mercy would vanish like smoke in the wind.  I didn’t get very far on horseback before she’d sent her dogs after me.  It took every ounce of cunning I had to evade her. I left my armies and rode up north to Winterfell alone.  I didn’t want to take every last bit of protection Cersei had, especially if she really was pregnant with my child, so I left my army stationed where they were. _

 

Jaime then began a surprisingly detailed account of how he managed to make it to Winterfell and it was harrowing.  Even through a terrible head injury that should have left him in a recovery bed for at least a week, he still managed to somehow claw his way to Winterfell.**

 

The rest of the account detailed meeting Brienne and trying to win the Starks’ and Queen Daenerys’ trust and their inevitable defeats.  The Starks had been able to trap Baelish in one of his own schemes and summarily executed him before he could cause anymore damage. At first there was hope and everyone thought they had a chance, but slowly, steadily, the enormous tide of the undead whittled their numbers down.  The dragons hadn’t even stood much of a chance. There began a litany of names of people who had fought and died in battle, most of whom Barristan didn’t recognize.

 

Slowly, painfully, the world died around them.  It hadn’t taken long. No more than two or three years at most.  With a ringing finality, Barristan closed the book.

 

Jaime was still awake for once, but he was simply staring up into the ceiling and said nothing.

 

“We’ll make it right, Jaime,” Barristan said, his voice hoarse as though from disuse.  “I will help to make sure this future doesn’t happen again.”

 

“You’re the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard planning treason, Ser Barristan,” Jaime whispered, shaking his head.

 

“As your Lady Brienne suggested, some things are more important than honor,” Barristan replied.  “Defeating the Long Night, ensuring the rightful king inherits the throne. I do not know what strength I have left in me, but I will fight to the death to see the rightful king crowned.”

 

“Well, you kept up your end of the bargain.  Any questions?”

 

Barristan looked to the window to see the gray light of morning and thought.  Jaime had done a remarkable job of answering most of his questions through his accounts and he was now more interested in questions that had specifically to do with what was happening now.

 

“How can you be sure that Aemon awaits us in Winterfell?”

 

Jaime gave him a mocking smile.  “When I hanged myself, the Gods deigned to toss me a bone.  They told me he awaits in Winterfell.”

 

Barristan inhaled sharply.  By the Gods own orders, they wanted Aemon crowned.  “Do you know which Gods are commanding you? The Old?  The New?”

 

Jaime shook his head.  “No, they have not revealed that kind of information to me.  Hanging myself was the first time they even bothered to communicate with me.”

 

“Do you have a plan to reach Aemon?”

 

“Yes,” Jaime said, though for the first time he seemed uncertain.  “It’ll work better with your cooperation, I think.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“When we go to Winterfell to collect Stark for his position as Hand, I was thinking about taking on Aemon as a squire.”

 

“You want to bring him here?”

 

“If he doesn’t go with me, he’ll just go the Wall again.”

 

Barristan gave him a sharp look.  “You’re right, he can’t be secluded at the Wall again.”

 

“My plan might work better if you took him as your squire.  Old Lord Stark would trust you more than me.”

 

He nodded vaguely, but said, “I’m not so sure about this plan.”

 

“Then think of a better one,” Jaime snapped.

 

“I’ll think on it.  How long do we have?”

 

“He’s sent to the Wall after Stark accepts being Hand.  Lady Catelyn won’t tolerate her husband’s bastard in her home any longer,” Jaime replied and there was mocking in his voice.

 

“But...but he’s the last son of Rhaegar.  One of the last of Targaryen descent! Eddard Stark would simply allow his sister and Rhaegar’s legacy to rot on the Wall?”

 

“Yes,” Jaime said with a bitter smile.  “He also refused to tell him his parentage.”

 

“What?”  Barristan seethed.  It was unconscionable to him that Eddard Stark was fine with allowing Rhaegar’s legacy to simply die out.  The boy had at least deserved to hear his heritage and the man couldn’t even give that to him.  _ Coward, _ he thought.  He might actually hate Ned Stark as much as Jaime did now.

 

“It’s morning.  I’ll seek you out to speak more to this,” Jaime replied and then sprung from bed.  “I have to relieve Ser Arys. He’s guarding the princesses.”

 

Barristan nodded and left, his head once more filled with thoughts of a nightmarish future.

  
  


*In canon, Euron fights in the Greyjoy Rebellion.  A small timeline change for obvious reasons that Jaime would have made the effort to kill Euron Greyjoy given the opportunity.

 

**Direct reference to my third fic  _ The Road North _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In canon, Euron fights in the Greyjoy Rebellion.  A small timeline change for obvious reasons that Jaime would have made the effort to kill Euron Greyjoy given the opportunity.
> 
>  
> 
> **Direct reference to my third fic The Road North.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** Good day, everyone! Thank you for reading and reviewing! I present to you all the final chapter of TLF. Enjoy! And for my fellow Americans, Happy Thanksgiving!

**Updated 4/7/2019: Edited for a smoother read.**

 

**Epilogue**

 

**298 A.C.**

 

The sight of Winterfell near stole the breath from Barristan, but it wasn’t for reasons of its beauty or majesty.

 

_ ‘We’re here.  We’re finally here.  This is it,’ _ he mused and numbly shook his head.  

 

After reading Jaime’s accounts and agreeing to help him serve their King Aemon, everything went back to normal.  It was enough to lull a lesser man into a false sense of security and while Barristan had been constantly plagued with doubts, he kept insisting to himself that he had to believe, not in the least for Jaime’s sake.

 

While his and Jaime’s relationships could hardly be described as brotherly, they were marginally closer though they maintained a distance in public.  However, there were times in private where Jaime looked at him with a hesitance and vulnerability that suggested he expected Barristan to turn around, disparage him, and go straight to the King with his information of treason.  The thought had certainly crossed his mind in his strong moments of doubts. Those doubts were silenced every time he saw King Robert’s conduct, whoring and spending the kingdom’s gold frivolously. And with every time he saw Prince Joffrey, the boy demonstrated what a boorish, spoiled brat he was.  It was proof of the inherent weakness in this dynasty. It was never going to last with such poor examples.

 

War was inevitable regarding the paternity of the royal children.  Ned Stark had every intention of snooping around and unearthing the truth of Jon Arryn’s untimely demise.  The way Jaime put it, the only person who  _ didn’t _ suspect the legitimacy of the children was King Robert himself.

 

As the year 298 approached, Barristan did finally broach a subject to Jaime that he had been at war with: “Shouldn’t we warn Jon Arryn?  Shouldn’t we save him?”

 

Jaime rolled his eyes in exasperation.  “Jon Arryn’s death pushes Robert North. How do you expect to meet  _ him _ otherwise and save  _ him _ from the Wall?”  Jaime had insisted on a moratorium for Aemon’s name lest any errant ears pick it up and start making assumptions, correct or not.  

 

Jaime never admitted to being afraid of anything, but he was obviously afraid of deviating from the original path.  Barristan had turned it over in his head countless times at night and each and every suggestion he had made had been shot down by Jaime.  They couldn’t simply pluck Aemon from Winterfell, one of them offering to squire him. How were they supposed to know of his existence anyway?

 

He had also suggested tipping off King Robert that his heirs were bastards, so that Aemon would be inclined to march south with his cousin and engage in a war.  While Jaime admitted that the plan had potential, it still had several major flaws; “We’re supposed to be tearing down Robert’s legacy, not giving him the chance to rebuild it.”

 

At his least inspired, Barristan said, “We could just defect and take Aemon with us across the Narrow Sea.”

 

Jaime had sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  “Do you not think I haven’t thought of these things? That would make us just as poor as Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys.  We’d be at the mercy of anyone crazy enough to hand us an army. Also, he doesn’t know of the other time and his true origins. We’d have to kidnap him! We wouldn’t make it to White Harbor and that would cast suspicion on him.  Face it, Jon Arryn dying is the best way to reach him.”

 

With that, Barristan was resigned to the fact that despite all of his efforts, Jon Arryn was on a path for his death.  It was only the knowledge that his death would make it possible for him to reach Aemon and safeguard him as was appropriate that made his treason bearable.

 

When word came down that Jon Arryn had passed, Jaime’s accounts were vindicated.  It was one thing to name who would eventually appear - that information could be floating around the Keep for all he knew - but to predict Jon Arryn’s death so far in advance, before the players were even there was another thing altogether.  

 

Jaime had been right all along and they needed to get ahead of this mess before it could escalate and spiral out of control.

 

_ That we would think we have the power to control these events, _ Barristan thought and snorted to himself.  That might very well be insanity itself, but they had to try.

 

Since Lord Arryn’s death was confirmed, Barristan was impatient to reach Winterfell.  In normal circumstances, he would hardly care that the queen’s ridiculous, gawdy, and impractical carriage broke down every five miles, but it made the anticipation to see Rhaegar’s last remaining son agonizing.  He wondered how Jaime managed to keep so calm, but when he asked about it, Jaime just shot him a long-suffering look and merely shook his head.

 

_ ‘Presuming we get there before he’s sent to the Wall.’ _  Just the thought was enough to make Barristan weep.  Rhaegar’s last remaining heir condemned to the Wall because the Lady of Winterfell thought him a stain on his father.  And Lord Stark allowed this abuse? Jaime had told him about the suffering Aemon endured as a result of being thought a bastard and it made him simmer with rage.   _ King Aemon deserves a better family. _  It shocked him that he even had to think that.  The Starks were the oldest and one of the most venerable houses of Westeros.  Lord Stark was well known for his adherence to honor despite not even being a knight himself.  He felt he had a kindred spirit in Lord Stark when they had initially met at King’s Landing, but now he felt like they couldn’t be further apart.

 

He would have to work hard to curb his tongue when they finally met.  It was hard enough trying to stifle his energy. Jaime was constantly throwing him dirty looks as he shifted in his saddle.  Even the king had noticed his agitation.

 

“Are you well, Ser Barristan?”

 

“It is not oft that you have traveled, your grace, and there are a lot of potential threats on the road.  I want to be on my toes,” he had replied, lying having become second nature to him by this point.

 

The king and Prince Joffrey were among the first inside Winterfell and he was sitting just behind the king.  He took the opportunity to survey the area as though for threats, but in truth he was looking for Jon Snow. 

 

_ “Lady Catelyn did not like him to be visible to the entourage.  He’ll be in the back,” _ Jaime had warned him.

 

He had frowned at Jaime as the words caused his ire for the Starks to increase once more.  He was aware that bastards were rather ignominious in the south, and little loved, but he had hoped that Jaime’s accounts were at least wrong about Aemon’s treatment at the hands of Lady Stark.

 

His first pass through the Stark family, no one in particular stood out and it was suggested that Jon Snow likely wouldn’t.  Of the Stark brood, he appeared to have the strongest Stark blood, Jaime had told him.

 

The King and Lord Stark exchanged pleasantries, laughing like they had never been separated since the Greyjoy rebellion.    Stark began introducing his children and he had a rather admirable brood. It was just as he decided to dismount that he met eyes that could be mistaken for Rhaegar’s.  The boy wasn’t looking at him, but close to him, and he was startled, but continued staring all the same. 

 

His memories suddenly catapulted to a time when Prince Rhaegar was out on the streets of King’s Landing, playing his harp and singing to it.   _ He has the prince’s violet eyes.*  How could this have gone unnoticed? _  He thought.  When he thought about it, he did hear a vague rumor that Ned Stark may have had a fling with Ashara Dayne and they were another house known for violet eyes.

 

He dismounted on the other side of his horse to put distance between him and Rhaegar’s son, so that no one could see the sudden weakness in his knees.   _ I will protect your son with my life, Prince Rhaegar.  You have my word, _ he silently prayed and hoped that some way, somehow, his message was received.

 

**The End**

  
  


***Yes, I gave Aemon violet eyes in this universe, mostly as a means to distinguish this story from the universe** **_The Dragon’s Roar_ ** **takes place in.  He still has gray eyes in TDR.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Notes** : Yep, that’s it. As rife with potential as this storyline is, I can’t continue it. I don’t need two different epics going on at the same time. Further, people are already confusing these two stories when they already cannot take place in the same timeline. This was simply another way this storyline could have gone, but didn’t at the time.
> 
> However, if there is anyone out there who’d like to use The Lion’s Fall as a springboard to write their own story, you have my blessing. Good luck!
> 
> See you all Dec 1st, when next I post to _The Dragon's Roar_!


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